


Rearrange the Stars

by whyyouacknsocraycray



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Amputation, Angst, Arthur Morgan Whump, Arthur is a single dad, Dutch tries to be better eventually, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Dutch van der Linde, Good Parent Hosea Matthews, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isaac Morgan lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyouacknsocraycray/pseuds/whyyouacknsocraycray
Summary: When Eliza is killed by robbers, Arthur Morgan decides to bring his son, Isaac, back to the gang.  The addition of a child causes some adjustments for all gang members, but Arthur is left wondering whether or not he can balance the outlaw life and fatherhood.
Relationships: Annabelle/Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan & Isaac Morgan, Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews
Comments: 48
Kudos: 81





	1. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been excited to write this story for a while! Isaac Morgan is barely mentioned in the game but clearly has such a big impact on Arthur's life. And when you watch Arthur's interactions with Jack, it makes you wonder how Arthur would have been as a father. Of course, this will change some things about the gang's history, which is the fun part about AUs.
> 
> I'm planning to write this in 3-4 parts, and taking a breaks in between to write ahead a little. I figure there will be some pretty big time jumps in this between parts as I would like to bring this story all the way to Blackwater and the events of the game. That being said, this story is going to be a monster and I am planning to go back to school this year, so each part has it's own story arc and conclusion should I need to put this down for a bit.
> 
> Now, just a quick note on geography. I love RDR2's map but the diverse landscape does not line up with the United States. Add in that the characters mention real places alongside their fictional states... it's a bit of a nightmare. Therefore, I have made the following adjustments. The Grizzlies are essentially the Rocky Mountains, except they swing eastwards into what is approximately Oklahoma to become Ambarino. The Heartlands of New Hanover, West Elizabeth, and New Austin are all Texas (because Texas is huge). Roanoke Ridge replaces Arkansas, and Lemoyne/Saint Denis are obviously Louisiana/New Orleans. Everywhere else in the United States will use their normal state name.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!!!! The title comes from the song "Light" by Sleeping at Last, which is absolutely wonderful.

On a lazy summer afternoon in 1888, Arthur Morgan was teaching his son how to fish. They stood next to a small river, barely deep enough for the tiny pickerels and bluegills that Arthur usually threw back if he was unfortunate enough to hook one. But his son Isaac insisted on going fishing after seeing his father bring some bass for dinner the previous night. In fact, he babbled non-stop in a way only a four-year-old could until Arthur gave in and took him out for the day. He just didn’t have the heart to tell Isaac that he bought the fish.

“Now, swing the rod over your shoulder like this,” Arthur said, watching as Isaac copied him. “Good, now bring it forward in a smooth motion.”

Arthur’s line stretched far to nearly the other side of the river, while Isaac’s flopped a little close to the bank.

“Now what?” Isaac asked.

“Now we wait for a fish to come along. If you feel a tug on the end of the line, yank hard to hook it.”

“Okay!” Isaac said, staring hard at the spot where the line disappeared into the water. “When is that gonna happen?”

Arthur chuckled. “You never know for sure. You just got to be patient and wait.”

“But how long?”

“Sometimes hours!”

Arthur hadn’t planned on visiting his son that week. After all, the gang was moving to another town much farther west. The gang’s leader and Arthur’s mentor, Dutch van der Linde, believed they could repeat their string of successful robberies in a state that, hopefully, had never heard any of their names. Arthur fully intended on helping them with the packing, but Hosea and Bessie encouraged him to visit his son instead. Especially since Dutch hoped to cross the mountains before the year’s end, which would make future visits much harder. They could make the move without him, he could catch up later. Hosea understood what it was like to have a life separate from the gang.

But as Arthur rode out of camp, he caught the glare Dutch sent his way. Hosea once told Arthur that Dutch simply worried that Arthur one day wouldn’t come back. Which was absurd! He didn’t want to leave the gang. He had even asked Eliza join them after their one night together resulted in a lot more than either of them expected. But she refused. She was young, well they both were, and Arthur had been honest about his criminal past. She wanted to stay near the town where she grew up. Arthur helped her buy a little cottage, and brought money whenever he visited.

Arthur’s thoughts drifted to the pile of money in his satchel. After their most recent bank robbery, he was able to bring quite a substantial amount. He planned to take Isaac shopping for new clothes and toys before surprising Eliza with a birthday gift and the rest of the cash. It was the least he could do, considering how little time he was able to visit and help.

But he couldn’t deny the tugging in his heart every time his visit ended.

“How much longer?” asked Isaac.

“Are you bored already?” Arthur teased.

“It’s just waiting! Can we go for a ride instead?” Isaac turned his blue-green eyes on Arthur, and how could he refuse? Isaac had Eliza’s small nose and ears, but he had Arthur’s eyes and light brown hair.

“Sure,” he said, reeling in the line and whistled for his horse, Boadicea. The dark bay Thoroughbred danced over to them. Arthur acquired the young filly only a year prior from a man who challenged him to a race. Arthur took one look at her wild eyes and the spur marks on her flank before pulling his gun and demanding the owner hand her over. Boadicea followed him back to camp willingly, and she was turning into quite a horse. He rubbed the crooked stripe on her forehead. “Ready to go, girl?”

“Can we go really fast?”

“Sure! Bo loves to run, don’t you?” As if understanding him, the filly tossed her head. Once Isaac was seated and secure in front of him, he tapped Bo’s sides and she took off. They raced along the road and into the trees, Isaac shouting for joy the whole way.

Eventually, they had to slow down. “That was fun!” Isaac said. “Can we do it again?”

“We should probably start heading back,” Arthur said. “We don’t want to be out after dark. Your mama won’t like that.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Every day?”

“Every day I’m here, how about that? Unless it’s raining or something.”

But that didn’t get the usual excited response from his boy. Instead, Isaac asked in a small, quiet voice, “Why do you leave all the time?”

And if that didn’t break his heart. He should have known it would happen sooner or later. Isaac was growing up faster than he ever imagined, and he was smart, asking questions all the time. Arthur figured he got it from Eliza’s side of the family. He certainly didn’t get it from Arthur himself.

“Well, I have to travel around to make money. I work so your mama can take care of you.”

“But Tommy’s pa works and he comes home all the time.”

Arthur wondered if Tommy was a new friend. “Tommy’s pa probably has a job in town. My job is… different. You know that.”

Eliza knew he was an outlaw, but the rest of the town believed he was a prospector for an oil company, thus explaining his many comings and goings. They told the same to Isaac, not that the kid really understood what prospecting entailed. But Isaac muttered, “I know,” and the conversation dropped as they approached the little cottage.

Arthur pulled Bo up along the side of the house, fully intending to let Isaac run inside while he put Boadicea out with the little Suffolk Punch he bought Eliza to pull their wagon, when he paused. The door was slightly ajar. Eliza never liked keeping the door open after the day the chickens got inside and caused a mess. He strained his ears. Maybe she was sweeping and needed the door open to get the dust out. But there was nothing, not even birds chirping in the trees. His eyes drifted around the house, leading to the shattered glass of one of the windows.

Every instinct screamed to run into the house with his gun drawn, but he couldn’t just ask Isaac to wait outside. What if someone was still inside? Or nearby, watching right now? He couldn’t leave Isaac alone. “You know what?” Arthur said, unable to cover the slight shake in his voice. “Let’s visit Jim and Mabel. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“But why?”

“It’ll be fun! Besides, Mabel always has those cookies you like.” The lure of sugar cookies was enough to stop Isaac’s questioning. Mabel and her husband Jim lived just down the road on a small homestead, and they absolutely adored Isaac and Eliza. Their two daughters were married and had moved out, and Isaac often played with their grandchildren whenever they visited. And, if someone had broken into the cottage, it would be the first place Eliza would think to go.

He hoped Eliza would be there when he knocked on the door. But Jim’s surprised greeting dashed those hopes. “Arthur and Isaac!” he said, and something must have shown on Arthur’s face because he glanced down at Isaac and said, “Why don’t you go find Mabel in the kitchen?”

Jim turned to Arthur after Isaac scampered away and said, “What’s wrong?”

“Is Eliza here?”

“No. Should she be?”

“I think someone broke into the house.”

Jim froze for a second with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes widening. Then he moved for the closet next to the door, grabbing a shotgun. “You sure?” he asked.

“Door’s open and a window is broken. I couldn’t hear anything, but I didn’t want to go in with the boy,” Arthur said, leading the way to the horses. Moving helped him ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach.

But the pit only grew as they rode back to the cottage, Arthur all the more worried what they would find. Jim walked the perimeter while Arthur volunteered to go inside. Pushing the door fully open, Arthur scanned the room with his Cattleman revolver drawn until his eyes landed on what he dreaded seeing.

Eliza lay in the middle of the kitchen in a pool of blood, her eyes closed and her limbs stiff. Arthur stuttered forward. He stopped right over her, his hand hovering above her still chest.

“Arthur?” Jim called from the door. “There’s nothing outside. Is it safe?”

He couldn’t answer. He just dropped to his knees next to her. The door creaked open behind him, and he heard Jim mutter, “Shit,” as he came up behind him. Arthur jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder, and Jim said, “I’m real sorry, kid.”

Arthur nodded, still too shocked to speak. He looked around the rest of the kitchen, taking in the overturned jars and opened drawers. Robbers, looking for money. Jim seemed to get the same impression, because he said, “I’ll get the sheriff. Do you want to come with me, or stay here?”

“I’ll stay,” Arthur said. His tongue felt thick and stuck in his mouth as he said the words. Jim squeezed his shoulder and left without another word.

Arthur stayed where he was, kneeling next to Eliza. The setting sun cast shadows across the room and over her body, almost hiding the bloodstains on her dress. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered until his voice grew hoarse.

How was he going to tell Isaac?

Arthur didn’t hear Jim return with the sheriff until the older man was back at his shoulder, carefully guiding him away from Eliza so that the sheriff and a second man could work. Numbly, Arthur realized the other man was an undertaker. “I swung by the house and let Mabel know,” Jim said. “She’ll keep Isaac for tonight, don’t you worry about him.”

The words worked their way through the fog of Arthur’s brain and brought him a little comfort. The sheriff suggested moving back to his office and letting the undertaker work, and Jim led the way back to town. Arthur’s eyes distantly watched the houses and shops pass by from the saddle. Once inside the Bellevue Sheriff’s Office, Jim shoved an open bottle into Arthur’s hands, and the smell of strong whiskey roused him somewhat. Jim’s hand was back on his shoulder, his grip strong and his eyes kind. He reminded Arthur of Hosea.

Arthur took a gulp of whiskey, and turned to the sheriff.

“Now, what happened today, son?” Sheriff Walton asked.

Arthur told him as best as he could about the day, fishing with Isaac and coming back to the house. Jim stayed with him the entire time, adding in the details he saw around the house when he arrived. It felt weird to be on this side of the sheriff’s office, reporting a crime instead of denying one.  
  
Sheriff Walton nodded along, then asked, “Is there anyone who saw you fishing with your son?”

Arthur caught up with what the sheriff was asking two seconds after Jim. “How dare you!” Jim said. “How dare you say he had anything to do with this.”

“I didn’t say anything, sir.”

“You sure as Hell implied it! Do you not see that boy right now?”

“I’m not trying to offend, but sometimes in these cases-”

“Did you not see the house, all turned upside down? And why would he come get me if he did it?”

Arthur let them argue. No one saw him at the river as far as he was aware, and he knew saying that wouldn’t help his situation. But the argument was interrupted by the deputies dragging in two men in dirty traveling clothes. “Walton, we overheard these two drunkards talking in the saloon. Complaining that they killed a woman in a cottage south of here but only got ten dollars.”

Arthur saw red.

It took both Jim and Sheriff Walton to drag Arthur off the two robbers, but not before their faces were bloodied and noses broken. Jim forced Arthur onto a bench outside and shoved more whiskey down his throat. “I’ll keep an eye on him, sheriff,” Jim said as Arthur’s hands began to shake, grabbing a rag to wipe the blood off his knuckles. “You’ve got to let the law do their job.”

“I should have been there,” Arthur said. “I could’ve taken those two. She didn’t have to die.”

“Or you’d be dead and your boy would be an orphan. Or worse.”

“Even if I was, maybe I could have given her time to get away.” 

“You don’t know what would have happened,” Jim insisted. “None of this is your fault.”

“How am I supposed to tell Isaac?”

That gave Jim a pause, and he looked to the floor. “Just keep it simple and honest. Mabel and I will be there to help you. And you can stay with us as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Least I can do. Come on, let’s get back home.”

This time, Arthur didn’t feel numb. His thoughts raced, trying to figure out how to explain what happened to his son. Did Isaac even understand death yet? Arthur couldn’t remember exactly when he learned about the concept, but when his own mother had passed away from illness and his daddy yelled at him that she was dead, he had known what that meant. He’d been about Isaac’s age, maybe a little older.

They were outside Jim’s house, now. Arthur slid his gambler hat off his head as he entered.

“Pa!” Isaac shouted, immediately running to him and throwing his tiny arms around his leg. “Where’s Mama?”

Arthur picked Isaac up and hugged him, then set him down on a chair. “Let’s talk,” he began, kneeling in front of the boy. “Do you- while we- shit, I don’t know how to say this.”

Jim and Mabel nodded at him from the corner, offering quiet reassurance.

“While we were out, some men came to the house and they- they hurt your ma. Real bad. And when folk get hurt bad like that, they die.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed. “It means your mama is gone, and she can’t come back.”

“Why not?” Isaac asked, with a slight hitch in his voice.

“Uh…” Arthur looked up at Jim, who quickly jumped in.

“Isaac, you know how you can feel your breathing? And you heart beating?” Jim said.

“Yeah.” His eyes were brimming with tears.

“Well, when people die, that all stops. Your body doesn’t work no more, so you have to leave it behind. Your ma can’t come back.”

“But she loved you, Isaac,” Arthur said. “She didn’t want to go, I promise you.”

Isaac began to cry as the message sank in. He leapt into Arthur’s arms and buried his head into his neck as he sobbed. Arthur wrapped his arms around his boy and let the tears that had been building all evening fall, too.

* * *

The morning of Eliza’s funeral, Arthur slipped out of bed early. He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days, between comforting Isaac and his own worries. But for the moment, Isaac was fast asleep curled around his favorite toy, a stuffed bear that was well-loved and worn.

“How are you holding up?” Mabel asked, passing the cup of coffee she just poured to Arthur before grabbing another for herself.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur said. Mabel shot him a pointed look. “Okay, it’s been hard.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Isaac,” she said, joining him at the table. “Now, I know you and Eliza weren’t married, but Eliza always said that you two had a good understanding. And I know you travel a lot with that oil company. I guess I’m trying to ask what your plan is?”

Arthur stared at the bedroom door. “I have no idea. I want take care of him, but…”

But he didn’t know how.

Arthur had no idea how to raise a child correctly. His father hadn’t either. Or maybe his father just didn’t care, drinking himself into a stupor on a good night and beating Arthur on a bad one. 

Arthur picked at the rope around his hat. He’d picked that hat up off the ground while his father still hung from the gallows. He was finally free of Lyle Morgan, but he knew the shadow of his father would follow him for the rest of his life. He donned the hat as a reminder to never be like his father, but for the three years after it felt like he was going to die on the end of a rope, too.

But then he met Dutch and Hosea, and for the first time in a long time, someone actually gave a damn about him. They taught him to read and ride and shoot a gun. They taught John, too.

“I just wanted to say,” Mabel began gently, “that if you need help, Jim and I would be happy to take the boy. I know Eliza’s uncle lives up in Omaha now, but to be honest, I don’t even know if he’ll show up today.”

His immediate thought was to protest. Isaac was his son. He turned, ready to tell her no, but then he stopped, mouth hanging open. He couldn’t be angry at her for asking. As far as she knew, his work lead him all over the country. And she wasn’t wrong! Could he really bring a four-year-old into the uncertainty of an outlaw camp, constantly in danger and running from the law? Would that be fair to Isaac, dragging him out of the life he knew?

“I’ll think about it,” he told her. “Thank you. For everything, and for letting us bury her here.”

Eliza had never been very religious, and it felt wrong to bury her at the church. But he didn’t want her to be buried alone. So when Jim offered for Eliza to be with his family on their homestead, he immediately accepted.

“Pa?” the sleepy voice came from the door. Isaac wandered in, still holding his bear.

“Hey, Isaac,” he said. “We’re going to say goodbye to your ma today, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, crawling onto Arthur’s lap.

“You want some breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

They ate breakfast in silence.

After, Arthur got Isaac dressed into some nicer clothes and they went out back. The cross was simple, with _Eliza Taylor_ carved neatly into the wood. The pastor only said a few words, read a few scriptures, and then asked if anyone wanted to speak. A few friends did, but Arthur only paid attention to Isaac. And he couldn’t help but notice the glare one of the older men kept sending him.

He didn’t have to wait too long to find out who it was after the coffin was lowered and the small crowd began to disperse.

“You’re Morgan,” the man said.

“Who are you?”

“Howard. Eliza’s uncle,” he spat. “So I guess I’ll have to take the boy, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said.

“The boy. It’s not like you’ll be taking care of him.”

“What are you saying?” Arthur growled. He felt Isaac hug his leg and duck behind him.

“It’s not like you did shit before. Just showed up a few times. You can’t exactly take him with you when you’re… _prospecting_. Of course, I expect you to provide for his care.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Howard, and the pieces started to come together. Howard’s disheveled appearance, the faint smell of booze. Mabel’s belief that the uncle wouldn’t even come to the funeral. And Isaac’s evident fear now. “And how exactly did you take care of them? I helped buy the house, I kept them fed. Eliza never even mentioned you.”

“Maybe if you stuck around, she wouldn’t have been killed.”

Arthur shifted to cover Isaac more. “You ain’t taking my son.”

“You think anyone will let you take him if they know who you really are?”

“Back off, Howard,” Jim said, getting between them. “He’s Isaac’s father.”

“Are you really that stupid that you don’t know-”

“I don’t care to know. He’s a better man that you. Now I’ve told you this before. I never want to see you around here again!”

Jim and a few of the other attendees chased Howard away from the funeral, but Arthur stayed by Isaac. “Is he gone?” his son asked.

“Yeah, he’s gone. You okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t like Uncle Howard.”

“You know what? I don’t like him, either. How about we head back inside?”

“Okay,” Isaac said. Arthur lifted him up, letting the boy snuggle against him as he was carried into the house. “Pa?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I have to live with Uncle Howard?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly. “No, you’re going to live with me.” He said it without thinking, but he didn’t regret it. Really, there was no other option. Sure, Mabel had offered to take him, but he couldn’t leave Isaac behind. Not now.

Mabel understood when Arthur told her. She also understood when he said he wanted to leave the next day. There was only one thing she wanted to ask.

“Are there people who can help you?”

“Yeah, there’s folk who can watch Isaac when I’m working a job.”

“No, I mean, are there people who can help you raise him?”

He thought about Hosea and Bessie, Dutch and his girlfriend Annabelle, and of course Susan, who basically kept their camp together. “Yeah. I’ve got family that will help me.”

“Good,” she said.

Arthur decided to leave early in the morning. Between travel and the funeral planning, he had already been away longer than he planned and he needed to meet up with the gang in Colorado. Mabel encouraged Arthur to write, and he promised that he would. And then they were off to the train station in Omaha on Boadicea with the Suffolk Punch carrying Isaac’s extra luggage.

“You’ve never been on a train before, have you?” Arthur said to Isaac while they sat waiting on the bench.

“No.” Isaac stared at the floor, fingers picking at the edge of his sleeve.

“We’re going to be alright, Isaac.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Arthur said. He pulled off his hat and tried to rub some of the tension out from behind his eyes. The next few days, weeks, months even were going to be rough.

But no matter what happened, he would do right by that boy.


	2. Colorado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a fun time trying to come up with a different horse for Dutch, since I've decided that he doesn't have The Count yet. I originally picked Nero because he was an ancient Roman emperor who, from my brief research, tried to eliminate taxes once and then became a mad, tyrannical ruler. Perfect for Dutch! But then I looked more and I found out many historical documents about Nero were written by Tacitus and he was emperor during the uprising of Boudica, also known as Boadicea.

"Arthur better be in town today," Dutch said as he tacked up Nero.

Hosea turned to his own horse to hide the eye roll. Dutch's constant fretting was going to turn the rest of his hair gray. "You know he went to the other side of Nebraska, right?"

"So?"

"So, it's going to take some time for him to get over here. Relax! If he's not at the hotel, we can check out that bank again."

"Fine!" Dutch mounted his black Andalusian while Hosea finished tacking up Silver Dollar. "How's that new horse treating you?"

On their way to Colorado, the gang passed a horse farm specializing in Turkomans. Hosea had been looking for a new mount as his Tennessee Walker was getting rather old. "He's good. Pretty strong, too."

Once he mounted up, they started down the trail out of camp and towards town. Hosea breathed in deep, enjoying the forest air and the view of the mountains. How he missed the mountains! The last few years, the gang had stuck to the farmlands of the Midwest, which had been fine, but it hadn't reminded him of home like the snow-capped peaks in the distance. Once Arthur was back, he would have to drag him up there to go hunting. John, too, if he could get the teenager to listen to him long enough to actually teach him valuable hunting skills.

Dutch must have caught him staring, because he said, "Just think about it, Hosea. If we make enough money here, we can afford the supplies to get over the Grizzlies. Then, the whole west is open to us! We could go all the way to the Pacific!"

"We do need to replace a few wheels on the wagons first, maybe buy another one," Hosea pointed out. "And we should think about getting John a proper horse. That boy is shooting up like a bean sprout! He's way too tall for a pony now. Speaking of which, he could use a new winter coat, too."

"Didn't you just buy him one last year?"

"Yes, and I swear he grew three more inches. At this rate, he might end up being taller than Arthur."

Dutch laughed, "Oh, I can't wait to hear what Arthur will say about that!"

"I want to see if he notices."

"Oh, he will. Once it happens, John will be bragging about it. What else do you think we'll need?" Dutch asked as they reached the town. "We should start making a list."

"Food, for sure. Horse meal. John's probably not the only one who needs a new coat. And we will need to start before the fall snows begin. Ideally the end of August."

"That soon?" It was already late June.

"Early September at the latest. Otherwise, we might have to go south for the winter, see if we can't get to the Pacific through New Austin and Arizona."

"Well, let's see if we can make some money first," Dutch sighed as they approached the hotel. But his face immediately brightened when he recognized the Thoroughbred hitched outside. "Look who it is!"

"See! I told you not to worry."

After hitching Nero and Silver Dollar next to Boadicea, Dutch and Hosea went into the hotel. "Good morning, sir," Dutch said to the clerk. "We're looking to meet up with our friend. He owns that bay filly out there. Which room is his?"

"Room one," the clerk grunted.

"Thank you," said Dutch, heading down the hall and knocking on the appropriate door.

Hosea heard some shuffling, and then the door swung open. And he was immediately taken aback.

Arthur looked exhausted! Bags had formed under his eyes, his hair hadn't been combed that morning. But that wasn't what caught Hosea's eye the most. That was the young boy peaking out from behind Arthur.

He glanced at Dutch, who was staring at the boy wide-eyed. Dutch didn't even look up when Arthur said, "Hey, Dutch, Hosea. You remember Isaac, right?"

Hosea managed to recover first. "Well of course! Hi, Isaac. I haven't seen you since you were a baby."

"This is Hosea," Arthur said to Isaac, gesturing to him. "And Dutch. They helped raise me."

"Hi," Isaac whispered shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Isaac," Dutch finally managed to say. "Arthur, how come-"

"Why don't we get back to camp?" Hosea jumped in. He had noticed the tear tracks on Isaac's cheeks and immediately suspected what had happened. "I'm sure Arthur would like to see everyone."

"Yeah," Arthur said. "We can, uh, talk then."

"You should help Arthur with his bags," Hosea said to Dutch, hiding his smile at the other man's grumbling. "You'll like our spot, Arthur. Pretty close to a creek. Copper loves it, though that means we have a wet dog more than half the time."

The mention of Arthur's coonhound puppy brought a smile to his face. "I can't wait for you to meet Copper," Arthur said to Isaac. Isaac followed his father's lead out of the hotel, clutching his hand tight.

"Have you ever been camping?" Hosea asked. Isaac shook his head. "It's fun! You get to sleep outdoors and see the stars every night. There's nothing else like it."

Arthur pointed out a Suffolk Punch next to Boadicea and said, "You can put the suitcase on Rory."

"He looks like a decent wagon horse," said Dutch.

"He is." Arthur placed Isaac on Bo and swung up behind him. "I see you got yourself a new horse, Hosea. He a Turkoman?"

"Good eye. He might even be able to outrun Bo!"

Hosea was about to turn and lead the way out when he heard someone shout, "Oy! Mr. Macintosh!"

Two men, probably in their mid-twenties if Hosea had to guess, walked straight up to Dutch. Hosea tensed, his hand instinctively sliding back towards his holster, but the taller one laughed and gave Dutch a light jab to the shoulder. "You think you can just clean up our money and sneak out while we was sleeping?"

Dutch put his hands up in mock surrender. "Now gentlemen, I seem to recall you two pushing to win back your money. I can't help it you drank so much you fell asleep on the cards."

"And who kept passing around the bottle?" the shorter but clearly more muscular man said. Hosea studied their faces and wondered if they were brothers. "I think it's only fair to give us another go at it."

"Certainly! I quite enjoyed talking with you boys," Dutch said, completely relaxed and carefree. He turned to Hosea and said, "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Why Mr. Macintosh," Hosea said with a forced smile, "surely you aren't about to go play poker right now."

"We need supply money, don't we?" Dutch said with a smirk, and strode off to the saloon.

Hosea sighed. Apparently Dutch hadn't spent all his time in town worrying about Arthur. "Shall we?" he said, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. They rode out of town and up to the foothills of the Grizzlies, crossing the little creek and coming out of the trees into a small clearing. "Home, sweet home," Hosea announced.

"Arthur, you're back!" John said, running up to them. Copper was close on his heels and barking, causing Rory to toss his head and sidestep out of the way.

"Hey, John," Arthur said back, stifling a yawn. He got off Bo and knelt down to greet Copper. The dog immediately flipped over for a belly rub as Annabelle, Bessie, and Susan all emerged from the camp.

"It's about time, Mr. Morgan," said Susan Grimshaw. "These camp chores don't do themselves, and neither does- oh!"

All the attention in the camp quickly moved to Isaac, still sitting in Bo's saddle with his fingers tight around the pommel. As Arthur stood up to bring Isaac back to the ground, Hosea moved forward to hold back Copper. The excited puppy practically quivered, his tail wagging so hard it was painful as it hit Hosea in the ribs. "Now sit, Copper. SIT! No, stay sitting. Arthur, you need to train this dog better!"

Isaac clung to Arthur, nervously eying Copper. "He's fine, he's just really happy to meet you," Arthur said, and slowly Isaac moved forward, giving Copper a few pats on the head before Copper lurched out of Hosea's grip and began licking Isaac's face. Hosea let a relieved smile slide onto his face when Isaac giggled, wrapping his arms around the dog.

"Everyone, this is Isaac. My son," Arthur said.

"Why, look at you!" Bessie said, moving towards Isaac. "You look so much like your father. I bet you're hungry after all that traveling." Isaac nodded. "It's a little early for lunch, but let's get you a snack." Bessie offered her hand and led him to the table near the fire, Arthur following behind.

"Where's Dutch?" Annabelle asked.

"Poker game," said Hosea. "With some boys he met the other day."

"He got nearly fifteen dollars off of them," she laughed. "Still, he should have come back here. I have a feeling there's a lot to talk about."

"You are right about that," said Hosea. "But _you_ can tell him that later."

"Trust me, he will hear about it," she said before turning and joining the group forming at the table.

Hosea remembered a time when he worried about Annabelle joining their gang. He had just returned from a year of trying to leave the criminal life with Bessie and Dutch had just ended his relationship with Susan. Once he was single, it wasn't uncommon for Dutch to charm a girl over a few drinks and into a bed, but from the moment they met, Annabelle was clearly different.

She grew up in a wealthy household in Chicago where her mother worked as a maid. Annabelle's mother never confirmed who her father was, likely out of fear of being fired. But that didn't stop the rumors from reaching her ears about the white businessman's activities with his black maids, especially given that all the household staff all lived on the property. The others often looked at her with pity and kept Annabelle away from the boss's family as much as possible. Despite this, Annabelle was able to sneak the same books and learning material from her half-siblings' tutoring sessions, and grew into an intelligent and well-read woman. She left as soon as she could, determined to find her own place in life.

Hosea learned all this from Dutch after his first night with Annabelle, and he was surprised that Dutch had spent the entire night talking with Annabelle instead of just fucking her. They met in a hotel lobby in Milwaukee when Dutch commented on the book she was reading, which led to a debate, which led to a discussion, and before either of them knew it the sun was rising once again. Dutch returned to that hotel several times before inviting Annabelle back to the house they were squatting in at the time. To everyone's relief, Annabelle slid into the group like she had always belonged, got along well with Arthur and John. Hosea had worried about what Susan would think, even if she had stayed in the gang after her relationship with Dutch ended, but Annabelle and Susan became fast friends.

Hosea pulled himself from his musings and approached the table. The three women surrounded Isaac, who was starting to brighten up a little at the attention and the chocolate bar Bessie gave him. "You're going to ruin his appetite," Hosea laughed, before turning to Arthur and gesturing to his own tent, "Shall we?"

"Sure. Isaac, I'm going to talk to Hosea just over there. You good staying here?"

"Okay, Pa."

"We've got him, Arthur," Bessie said, though Annabelle joined them. As they walked across camp, Hosea noticed John sticking to the edges, watching Isaac out of the corner of his eye.

"Now son, what happened?" Hosea asked.

"I was out with Isaac, just riding around, you know? Couldn't have been gone for more than a few hours. But some robbers came to the house and they- they-"

Hosea sat down next to Arthur, rubbing his back in slow, smooth motions. He knew Arthur had never been one to seek out physical comfort, not even a hug or a pat on the shoulder, when he clearly needed it. A second passed before Arthur leaned into Hosea and gathered his breath.

"She was dead when I got back. The law caught the two men that did it. I figure they hanged for it, but I didn't stick around. We left right after the funeral."

"How have you and Isaac been doing?" Annabelle asked.

"He's been real quiet. Has nightmares, too. He sort of understands what happened, the robbery part of it."

"Give him some time," said Hosea. "His life has been turned upside down. You remember what that's like."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, all the things Dutch and I went through with you and John!"

Arthur mouth twitched towards a smile. "John was a little shit. You know he bit me when I was holding him down so Susan could cut his hair?"

Annabelle sat down on Arthur's other side and said, "We're going to help you, Arthur. All of us. Though if Isaac turns out to be a biter too…"

"He's not, I promise," Arthur said with a chuckle.

Susan called out to them for lunch. Giving Arthur one last pat on the back, Hosea stood up and said, "Let's get some food in you, and then maybe you can take a nap."

"I'll be fine," Arthur said, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, there's chores to do."

"Sure, but it's nothing the rest of us can't handle. You need some sleep."

Hosea didn't immediately walk to the table. Despite the call for food, John was still sticking to the edges of the camp, this time checking out the new horse Arthur had brought back. "Not hungry, John?" he asked.

He only got a grunt in return. John could really take sullen teenager to the next level. "You want to have a chat?" Hosea tried again.

"No."

Hosea tried not to let out an exasperated sigh. "You know you can always come to me if you do." He waited an extra second to see if John would change him mind, then went to join the others.

After lunch, Arthur took Isaac over to his tent so they both could get a little rest, though that almost ended before it began when Isaac didn't have his stuffed bear. Fortunately, the bear was just in Arthur's saddle bag. Once everything was quiet, Hosea told Bessie and Susan what happened to Eliza.

"Oh, those poor boys," Bessie exclaimed.

"How are we going to do this?" Susan asked. "Between jobs, supply runs, and who knows what else, someone always has to be watching him."

"We'll figure it out," Hosea said. "It will be an adjustment, but usually at least one of us is always in camp."

Bessie nodded. "And you know I'll be around camp until the fall." While Bessie supported Hosea's lifestyle, she much preferred wintering at her sister's ranch in Indiana. Usually Hosea joined her for a few weeks before finding the gang again, but he wondered if that would be possible this year with Dutch's plan to cross the Grizzlies. Speaking of which, could they even safely cross the Grizzlies with such a young boy?

He was not looking forward to bringing that up to Dutch. That would have to be a conversation for another day. For now, he just did chores and checked in on Arthur and Isaac occasionally. Isaac was in Arthur's bedroll, and Arthur was awkwardly curled around him along the edges of the cot with only a thin blanket to cover himself. It looked like they needed to add an extra cot to their shopping list.

Dutch didn't stroll back into camp until nearly dinner, flaunting the extra twelve dollars he made at the poker table. "They were interesting fellers, Hosea," he said. "Brothers, and terrible at cards! But oh, how they carried on. We had some good conversations. I must say, I get a good feeling about them. And I know what you're thinking, I didn't just spend all day playing cards and drinking. I got some information on a stagecoach robbery that should make us some decent money. What have you been doing all afternoon?"

"Oh, not much. Just comforting our boy after the mother of his son was murdered. And a bit of laundry."

Dutch had the decency to at least pause and ask, "Murdered? How?"

"A robbery. Over ten damn dollars. While Arthur out with Isaac."

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit is right."

"And there was no one else who could take the boy?"

Of course that would be Dutch's first thought. When Dutch brought a girl or a half-feral twelve-year old back to camp, or suggested partnering up with other outlaws like those awful O'Driscoll brothers, he would hear no complaints. But if anyone else tried that…

Dutch had originally offered to let Eliza and Isaac join the gang when Eliza told Arthur of her pregnancy, though he presented the option to Arthur as his only chance to be part of Isaac's life. He wouldn't hear any word of Arthur leaving the gang, which Hosea secretly supported. Yes, Hosea himself left his wife for a good portion of the year to run with the gang, but he and Bessie were both adults who could discuss their wants and needs. Isaac was a child.

So he simply said, "Arthur is Isaac's father. He should be the one to take care of him."

"And how is Arthur?"

"He's taking it rather hard, I think."

Dutch's hand fell on his shoulder. "We'll get through this, Hosea. We always do."

Hosea nodded along to Dutch's confidence, almost subconsciously. Dutch grinned wide and walked over to John, probably boasting about his poker winnings.

Arthur emerged from his tent just before dinner, looking a little more relaxed. He helped Susan set the table with Isaac trailing behind. Hosea popped open a beer and watched with a slight frown.

"You look deep in thought," Bessie said.

"I am."

"Yeah, me too."

"What are you thinking about, my dear?" Hosea asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"That I might have a few additions for my letter to my sister. You know, she did mention they were thinking of expanding the horse stable."

Hosea nodded. "More horses means they need more hands."

"Exactly."

When they all sat down for dinner, Copper clung to Isaac, nosing his way towards the plate and trying to steal some scraps. They tried to avoid feeding Copper at the table, well everyone except Arthur agreed to that, but no one stopped Isaac from dropping morsels into Copper's waiting mouth. By the end of the meal, drool was dripping onto Isaac's lap, much to Susan's disgust. But Isaac was having a good time, and as Arthur confessed to Hosea later in the evening, it was the happiest the kid had been since they lost Eliza.

But Dutch was clearly avoiding them. He sat in his tent, pouring over his maps. Hosea tried to catch his eye, but the man refused to look up. Hosea just rolled his eyes. Dutch would come around eventually.

At least, he better.


	3. Robin Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Arthur will experience the first difficulties of being an outlaw single dad.

Arthur spent the first few days after returning to camp being pulled in several directions at once. Dutch was trying to plan the robbery of a stagecoach coming through town, supposedly carrying a very wealthy woman to her relatives’ home in Denver. Then there was Susan insisting upon Arthur making up for his days away from camp by constantly nagging him to feed the horses or do laundry. Not that he minded doing chores, but now he had other priorities, mainly his son who followed him around like a shadow.

“Mr. Morgan!” Speaking of Miss Grimshaw, Arthur managed not to roll his eyes as he turned to greet her. When Susan Grimshaw joined their tiny gang not long after Arthur himself, she had originally been appalled by how they lived. Arthur never thought it was as bad as she proclaimed, but compared to how they lived now, they’d been slobs. Hosea was the only one who ever bothered to clean or organize, but not to Miss Grimshaw’s standards.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?”

“I noticed our water barrel is running low. You need to stay on top of these things.”

Arthur sighed. He had just found a little time to sit down. Quickly looking around camp, his eyes fell on John, currently occupied with poking a stick into some mud. “Make John fill it up.”

“Mr. Marston has already chopped firewood and brushed the horses. It’s your turn. Go on now! I’ll watch the boy, come on Isaac,” she said, reaching her hand out.

“No!” Isaac shouted, grabbing the bottom of Arthur’s coat.

“What do you mean, no? None of that, now. Come here.” She reached again, but Isaac twisted away, still keeping his grip on Arthur’s coat.

“No!”

“Mr. Morgan, you need to teach that boy some manners,” Susan chided, but didn’t try to grab Isaac’s hand.

“I’ll figure out what’s wrong. And get the water, don’t worry,” Arthur replied before kneeling down next to Isaac. “Alright, Isaac, what’s going on? Why won’t you go with Susan?”

“I don’t like her. She’s mean.”

Arthur fought hard not to snicker and remember that his son was upset. “Now why do you think she’s mean?”

“She yells all the time.”

“She’s not yelling to be mean, at least I don’t think she is. She yells a lot because she’s spends all her time around fools who don’t listen to her.”

“But Mama says people yell when they’re mad.”

“I suppose they do,” Arthur said. “But Susan can be nice once you get to know her. And I do need to go fill up the water, so will you go with Susan?” Isaac shook his head no. “How about Bessie? She’s in that tent over there.” Isaac nodded. “Go on, now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He waited until Isaac made it all the way to Hosea and Bessie’s tent without getting distracted. Only then did he go to the creek for water.

Susan was waiting at the water barrel when he returned. “What is wrong with that boy?” she asked.

“Leave him be,” Arthur said. “He’s been through a lot.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to be disrespectful.”

“He’s four.”

“He likes Bessie well enough,” she muttered.

“Are you jealous, Miss Grimshaw?” Arthur asked. She slapped the back of his head and walked away as he laughed.

With Isaac occupied for the moment, Arthur looked around camp for more chores to get Susan off his case. There was a pile of dishes that could be done now that they had water. He started scrubbing, keeping an eye on the tent flap.

“Arthur! There you are!” Dutch waved him over from his own tent. Arthur put the plate down and joined him. “I’m just finalizing plans for this stagecoach. You, me, and Hosea should be enough. Now, it will just be the woman, the driver, and one guard. They are staying in town for one night before heading to Denver, so I was thinking about setting a trap in this wooded area near this turn.” Dutch pointed out a secluded part of the road on the map, the perfect place for an ambush.

“How did you find out about this one? Those two boys at the poker table?”

“The hotel owner. Apparently this woman has certain standards that she wants met, and sent a telegram in advance,” Dutch chuckled. “It only took a few drinks for the owner to start complaining about it.”

“So, how are we playing this?”

“I figure Hosea could step out, spin some yarn, then you and I can come from the side. They won’t have a choice but to hand over their valuables.”

Arthur hummed, looking over the map with his brow furrowed. “If Hosea’s acting, he won’t have his face covered though. He’s been in town a lot.”

“That’s why we are hitting the stagecoach after they leave town.”

“But what if they turn around to get the law? Or send word from the next town.”

“Alright, son, then what do you suggest?” Dutch sat back in his chair.

“I don’t mean to-”

“No, go ahead.”

Arthur breathed deep, wondering what Dutch was doing. Normally whenever Arthur asked questions about a plan, Dutch was quick to reassure him that the idea was flawless and he had thought of every possibility. “We could have Annabelle do the distraction. This is an older lady, right? She might stop for another woman.”

“Not bad,” Dutch said thoughtfully. “Though Anna has never done this type of robbery before.”

“She has gotten good with a pistol, if it comes to that.”

“True, let me think.”

“Think about what?” Hosea said, wandering over to them.

“Arthur had the thought that you’ve been in town too much and are too recognizable for this stagecoach, and he might have a point!” Dutch announced proudly. So that’s what it had been about? A test? “He suggested Anna do it.”

“Ah, a lady in distress?” Hosea said. “Annabelle certainly can play that role. She’d have fun with it.”

“Yes, but she did mention she was looking into something in town. Maybe there’s a better choice,” said Dutch. “What about John?”

“John? Really?” Arthur asked.

“We haven’t brought John in on jobs before,” Hosea reminded him. “He’s only fifteen.”

“We were taking Arthur on jobs when he was fifteen!”

“Yes, to pick pockets at a party or sneak around a house. Never a stagecoach!” Hosea said.

“And John’s been with us for what? Three years now? He’s a damn good shot, getting to be a decent rider, and this robbery is going to be easy. We’re going to bring him along sometime, why not now?”

Whatever complaint Hosea had was immediately ignored when a small, quivering voice behind him said, “Robbery? You’re robbers?”

The fear in Isaac’s words stabbed through Arthur’s heart. He didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to face him, but he had to. Isaac’s eyes darted between the three of them, hoping one of them would correct themselves and set the record straight. But Dutch, in his confident, booming voice, said, “Oh, we are not simple robbers, son. We are outlaws!”

“But you steal?”

“We take from those ingrates who would enslave others and take advantage of this great nation-”

“Dutch, stop! He’s four!” Hosea said, interrupting what would likely be a long speech.

“And? He needs to understand that we are not mere criminals.”

“He’s not going to understand. You need to keep it simple.”

“This is simple!”

“Isaac?” In the seconds that Arthur was distracted, his son disappeared into camp. “Isaac!”

“Bessie?” Hosea called out. “Did you see where he went?”

“No, I’m sorry. I just noticed he followed you out.” She immediately put down her book and began looking between the tents.

“Isaac!” Arthur shouted again, but he couldn’t spot the boy anywhere.

“You just had to say that, Dutch?” Hosea said.

“How was I to know the boy would react like that?”

“His mother was killed by robbers, you fool!”

“Well I didn’t realize he didn’t know who we are!” Dutch shouted back.

“Isaac!” Where could he have gone? If he didn’t find his son… Arthur didn’t know how to finish that thought. They were in the middle of the woods, full of wildlife that could hurt a small child, and near a creek that was cold all year. Would Isaac try to run from camp?

Wait, Copper! Copper loved Isaac and rarely left his side. Where was Copper? The dog was by one of their wagons, pawing at a few crates and boxes blocking the space underneath. Arthur grabbed Hosea’s arm and pointed.

He truly didn’t know what to say to Isaac, so he was glad when Hosea took the lead, walked over to the crates, and knocked. “Can we come in?”

“Go away!”

“How about just your father? Can he come in?”

“Is he a robber?” Isaac asked, voice muffled slightly by the crates between them.

Hosea looked to Arthur. He sighed and said, “We shouldn’t lie to him.”

“Okay,” Arthur said. “It’s like Dutch said. We’re outlaws, but yeah. We rob people, sometimes.”

“Do you hurt people, too?”

Arthur pulled his hat low over his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

“Not all outlaws are bad, you know. How about I tell you a story about a famous outlaw?” Hosea said. “You ever hear the story of Robin Hood?”

There was some sniffling from behind the crates.

“You see, Robin Hood lived all the way across the sea in the English town of Nottingham a long time ago. And in the town, there was a sheriff who forced the people to pay almost all their money to him in the name of the king. And all the people had to pay, or else the sheriff would arrest them! But after they paid him, well, they didn’t have enough money for food. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Isaac’s crying hitched. “No.”

“No, it was not! And Robin didn’t think so either. Every day, Robin had to go into town and see people struggling to survive when they didn’t have to be. But what could he do? The law said he had to pay! So, Robin became an outlaw! But he didn’t steal from normal folk, just trying to get by. Do you know who he robbed?”

“Who?”

“He robbed the sheriff! There was this big stagecoach that went through town all day, collecting the money, but before it got back to the sheriff, Robin Hood jumped out from behind the trees with a mask on and his bow drawn! He took all the money, went right back to town, and gave it back to the people.”

“Really?” Isaac asked. Arthur couldn’t hear crying anymore. Even though he knew exactly where Hosea was going with this story, having heard it before, he still felt himself drawn in.

“Really!” Hosea continued. “And other folks started to hear about what he was doing and joined him. And though they were all criminals in the eyes of the sheriff, no one else saw them that way. They didn’t rob from normal folk, just trying to make ends meet. See, that’s the difference between a criminal and an outlaw. Criminals, they don’t care about anyone but themselves, and they will rob anyone. But the good outlaws like Robin Hood take from only the rich and evil men. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Your pa and me, and everyone else here, we want to be like Robin Hood. We take from the rich and give to the poor! And we try our best not to hurt no one, either. Especially not folk like your ma.”

“Promise?” asked Isaac.

Hosea looked over at Arthur expectantly. Arthur turned to the crates and said, “I promise, Isaac.”

“And I promise, too. And so does Dutch and Annabelle, Susan and John. And Bessie, well she isn’t an outlaw but she does hang out with us fools,” Hosea said with a laugh.

Isaac was still hiding but no longer crying. “You ready to come out?” Arthur asked.

Hosea added, “If you do, I bet I can tell you some stories about how me, Dutch, and your pa helped a bunch of folk.”

One of the crates shifted, and Isaac crawled out. Copper immediately jumped up and began licking Isaac’s face, much to Isaac’s equal delight and disgust. “C’mere, son,” Arthur said, holding open his arms and letting Isaac onto his lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“You really rob and help people?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah. We try to,” said Arthur.

“Ready for that story now?” Hosea asked. Isaac nodded. “Well, it was just last year, actually! We were in a small town where there was a huge orphanage with kids just like you. But the folk that ran the orphanage couldn’t buy food, or clothes, or toys for any of the kids. But in the middle of this town was a huge bank that held the money for the one rich man in town, who never helped out those kids. So me, your pa, and Dutch walked into that bank one day and I started talking with the clerk. Then Dutch told the clerk to put his hands up, because we were going to take all the gold! You know, Isaac, people will defend what is their own, be it money or property, to their dying breath. But no one wants to get hurt protecting someone else’s money! So the clerk immediately gave us what we wanted, and we took that gold and gave away to the orphanage and other poor folks around town.”

“Wow!” Isaac said, gazing at Arthur and Hosea with adoration.

“Feel better now?” Hosea asked.

“Yeah. Can I go play?”

“Of course!”

Isaac took off into camp with Copper chasing him. He went to grab a stick, but Copper jumped forward and snagged it at the last second. “Hey, no fair!” Isaac yelled after him, but one of Copper’s favorite games was keep-away, and he was determined to win.

Arthur smiled while watching them, and pulled out his journal to quickly sketch the scene. He hadn’t had the chance to draw since Eliza’s death, only giving himself the time for a quick portrait of her face and a note on what happened. It was nice to fill the pages with happier memories.

But the scratch of pencil on paper couldn’t block out Hosea’s conversation with Dutch behind the canvas.

“The boy is fine, now,” Hosea said.

“You want to tell me why you wouldn’t let me talk to him?”

“That wasn’t the time for your philosophies or Miller quotes, Dutch. Arthur and John barely understood that material when you had them reading it.”

“You think I can’t explain Miller’s concepts? Or do you not trust me to do so?” Dutch asked coldly.

“Dutch, you know I trust you, but that boy was on the verge of running away. Hell, he did run and hide from us. Thanks for the help looking, by the way.”

“You made it clear you didn’t want my help. How did you fix it, anyway?”

“I told him about Robin Hood.”

Dutch huffed. Arthur glanced back at the tent before hiding a smile behind his book. “Now, shall we discuss this stagecoach?” Dutch asked, meaning Hosea won their small argument.

“You really want to bring John in on this?”

“Why not? You know he’s been asking to be brought in on a real job.”

“But-”

“But nothing! He’s the distraction. That old woman will take one look at a kid in distress and pull over. They might not even think he’s a part of it once we come out and start robbing them!”

“And if they realize he’s part of the ruse? Do you want John to have a bounty on his head already?”

“Again, it’s going to happen one day. Why not now?” Dutch paused for a second, then decided he didn’t want to wait for Hosea’s response. “You know what? Let’s have John decide. Mr. Marston! Why don’t you come over here.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Classic Dutch. Now the only way Hosea could win would be to disappoint John, and deal with the consequences of that.

“Mr. Marston, how would you like to run the distraction for this stagecoach robbery?” Dutch said.

“Really? I can go?” John asked.

“Of course! You’re ready, don’t you agree, Hosea?”

“I suppose,” Hosea conceded with a sigh. “But only the distraction! Keep it clean, I don’t want him to have a murder charge on his head. And I swear, Dutch van der Linde, if anything happens to him-”

“No one is going to get hurt!”

With that, Dutch began filling John in on the plan, and Hosea wandered over to Arthur. “You okay?” Arthur asked.

Hosea ignored him and leaned over his shoulder to look at his drawing, and Arthur knew he didn’t snap the journal shut in time. “That’s rather nice. You going to show him?”

The sketch of Isaac running after Copper, a stick dangling out of his mouth, was rough. Arthur frowned as he considered the hastily corrected line work, the awkward shading. “It’s alright.”

“You know, you should buy Isaac a journal and teach him how to draw. And he can practice his letters. Do you know if Eliza started teaching him to read yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe while you guys are out on your robbery, I can distract him with the alphabet. And I think we still have some old books from teaching you and John.”

“His birthday is coming up in the fall,” Arthur said. A journal wasn’t a bad idea, especially since he was about to make some money. His mother taught him to draw, and while he didn’t think his sketches were as good as Hosea believed, maybe drawing skills did run in the family.

“October tenth, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Turning five, that’s a big deal.”

“I know, I can hardly believe it.”

Hosea let the conversation fade, but still lingered, wringing his hands and staring off into the distance.

“You sure you’re okay, Hosea?” Arthur asked again.

“Just… take care of John, alright?”

“Of course, Hosea. You know I will.”

“And you know,” Hosea began, hesitating, “you don’t have to do this robbery.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that every job is a risk, and your son just lost his mother. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to make sure he keeps his father. I can take your place. As long as I’m not running the distraction, I can be masked up.”

Arthur had to admit that Hosea had a point. But what else was he supposed to do? This was the life he lived, and his family needed money to make it across the mountains. “It seems like a pretty safe, easy job. I’m sure it will be fine,” he said.

“I know. But please, take care of yourself, too.”

“I will.”

Finally satisfied, Hosea patted Arthur on the shoulder and returned to Bessie. But it had Arthur thinking. If something happened to him, what would happen to Isaac?


	4. The Stagecoach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting on Friday rather than Saturday because I have an idea for a fun, fluffy, only-Micah-dies-and-they-get-the-ranch one-shot that I might try to write all in one day. No guarantees I'll finish it, though, but at least I can get it started. It was actually an idea for a humorous plot point in _Toil and Trouble_ , but I decided to cut it because it didn't quite match the tone.

Dutch read the same paragraph for the fourth time before giving up for the evening. Normally he could lose himself in Evelyn Miller for hours, but worries raced through his mind too fast to fully comprehend. He closed the book with a long sigh.

Annabelle chuckled and said, “Finally tired of Miller, are you?”

“You know I will never be finished with Mr. Miller. The way he writes… he’s wonderful!” he said to Annabelle. Dutch ignored the laugh and shake of her head. He could never get Annabelle to appreciate Miller like he did. “I just can’t seem to concentrate tonight. We are robbing that stagecoach tomorrow, and I’m just hoping Arthur’s head will be in the right place.”

“I thought he helped with the planning?”

“Yes, and then he ran off soon after.”

“Do you blame him?” Annabelle asked. “You don’t expect Arthur to prioritize a stagecoach over his son, do you? I sure don’t.”

“I understand that, but I need him to focus. If something goes wrong tomorrow because he missed some detail, the whole thing could be ruined.”

Annabelle closed her own book. “Arthur knows Bessie and Hosea will be watching Isaac. He’ll be focused in the moment. Trust him, Dutch.”

“I do trust him! I just… worry. Arthur has so much potential. And we need him if we are going to keep living free!” Annabelle let out a huff, so Dutch turned and said, “What?”

“Nothing. You need to rest, we can discuss this later.”

“Now you’ve got me curious.”

“We shouldn’t fight tonight.”

“We’re not fighting!”

“We’re about to be,” Annabelle grumbled. But Dutch kept staring at her, eyebrows raised. “Fine. You say that our freedom hinges on Arthur working jobs-”

“I wouldn’t say it hinges on it.”

“But what is freedom?”

“Are you testing me?” Dutch asked, his voice rising. They had many a debate about the topic in the past. “To be free is to live without being crushed under the oppressors of society, without being controlled by the ideas of others, free from ideas of ownership and wealth. You know, Miller says that Americans end up choosing to be controlled when they deny their own kingship, and all I’ve ever wanted is for Arthur to-”

“But it seems to me like you’re saying that Arthur can either choose to be controlled by Isaac or you, is that it?” she said in a serious tone.

“He- I- this-” Dutch stuttered. “That’s not what I’m saying! You just hate Miller.”

“I don’t hate Miller. He has good ideas. But he’s also an academic teaching at a fancy East Coast university. And he’s always struck me as a man without obligations.”

“So?”

“Arthur has new obligations now, and that’s going to change things for him,” Annabelle said.

“And what? He should just forget his potential?” Dutch asked. He couldn’t imagine Arthur being anything other than the perfect outlaw he was, the perfect outlaw he raised him to be.

“Arthur has many potentials. So does everyone. I don’t believe we have one, singular purpose in life. He gets to decide which one to pursue.”

“What are you saying? That Arthur can’t be an outlaw if he raises a child?” Dutch asked.

“Not necessarily.”

“Hosea and I took in Arthur, we took in John, and did that change our plans? No!”

“No, but I’m sure you made adjustments. But Arthur and John were much older. What worked for them might not be best for Isaac.”

“It could be.” It should be.

She sighed and turned her head away. “Let’s finish this later. It’s late, you need sleep.”

“Fine,” he said.

She was right, they shouldn’t have argued. He lay awake for several hours, thinking about obligations, and kings.

* * *

“You alright, Dutch?” Arthur asked as they waited on the coach the next morning. “You look tired.”

“Me? I’m fine,” Dutch said, though the yawn that followed probably did little to convince Arthur otherwise. “How are you?”

“Just dandy. Hoping John does alright with his acting.” 

Just on the road was John, dressed in one of Arthur’s old, torn coats and covered in dust. His job was to flag down the coach, complain about having been thrown from his horse, and ask for the directions to the nearest town. Once Dutch and Arthur appeared, he was to scurry away as if frightened to where his Morgan, Daisy, was hitched and waiting. If luck was with them, the woman and her driver would never suspect that John had been part of the robbery.

“John will do fine. I must say, it is nice to be out just the two of us, well three of us, I suppose. We haven’t had much chance to talk, you and I.”

“Yeah. I’m glad to be out of camp for a bit. I’ve been missing it.”

“You were meant for this, Arthur. Riding on the open range, working jobs with me and John.”

“You know, I can’t wait until I can teach Isaac how to ride. He’s a little small for now.”

“Yes, he does need to be able to reach the stirrups,” Dutch laughed. “But kids do grow fast. You won’t have to wait long.” Annabelle was wrong, clearly. Arthur could handle being an outlaw and a father at the same time. He wanted to be out here.

“I hope Isaac’s doing alright, though. This is the first time I haven’t been around since, you know,” Arthur said, eyes staring distantly into the woods.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine!” Dutch quickly replied. “He has Hosea and Bessie looking out for him.”

“He does like Bessie. I think she reminds him of his old neighbor,” Arthur said.

They drifted back into silence. Satisfied with Arthur for the moment, Dutch turned his attention to John. The bored kid was kicking rocks in the road. Dutch had warned both John and Arthur that the stagecoach could be late, considering it wouldn’t take all day to get to Denver and the target sounded like the kind of woman who would take her time making sure her appearance was perfect before departing. Hosea had scoped out the coach and the woman the night before, reporting back the sheer size of her fancy hat and the expensive bracelet on her wrist. Dutch was hoping for cash, pure and simple. Finding a reliable fence for jewelry was hard enough, especially one that paid the stolen items’ true value.

Straining his ears, Dutch picked up the faint hoof beats and rolling carriage wheels. “Here we go,” he said, pulling his checkered bandanna over his face and waving at John. John waved back, then began wandering in the direction of the coach with an awkward, exaggerated limp.

“Excuse me? Can you help me?” John called. “My horse tossed me and I got lost!”

The coach slowed, and a high-pitched voiced from inside shouted, “What’s going on out there?”

“Just a boy asking for directions, ma’am,” the driver said. “Where are you trying to get to, kid?”

John did not manage to keep a look of disgust off his face at being referred to as a kid. That was John’s latest thing he complained about. Dutch supposed that now he was coming on jobs, he couldn’t call him a kid much longer.

“I live in Fort Collins, sir.”

“You hurt your leg?” the driver asked.

“We really must keep moving, sir,” the woman insisted. Funny, he had assumed that the woman would want to help John, not the driver. Oh well, it was working. Dutch signaled to Arthur and moved forward.

“Why look what we have here, Mr. M!” Dutch said as they rode out. Dutch moved towards the passenger door, gun pointed at the guard, and Arthur placed himself in front of the driver. “Fort Collins is back that way, kid, and I suggest you move quickly.” John scampered off down the road and out of sight, just they planned. “Since we are all stopped here, I think it would be best of you dropped your guns and handed over your valuables.”

“Are you just going to let them rob us?” the woman said. “Do something!”

“I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Dutch said to the guard, whose hand was shifting towards his holster. Hosea wanted him to keep it clean, so Dutch breathed slow and steady. As the gun left the guard’s holster, Dutch shifted his aim, shooting the gun right out of his hand.

“Shit!” the guard said, clutching at his fingers.

“Now then, let’s stop this drama! Come on out and hand over your valuables, ma’am. Cash, jewels, everything you’ve got! And my associate will need that box on the back unlocked.”

The stagecoach door opened slowly, and the woman exited hat first. Dutch was glad his smirk was hidden behind the bandanna, and he figured Arthur had one on his face too based on his widening, jovial eyes. “Fine,” she said. “That’s what you barbarians do, isn’t it? Take everything from others!”

“Oh, I doubt we are setting you too far back, considering the millinery,” Dutch laughed as he took the cash and bracelet from outstretched hand. Arthur quickly ruffled through the items in the back, pocketing the money and leaving the food and other supplies. They never took the necessary items for travel. They weren’t cruel. Dutch had instilled that in both his boys from the start. “Now then, I must thank you for being cooperative. You may be on your way.”

The woman scoffed as she reentered the coach. Dutch smiled again, waiting for Arthur to mount back up so they could find John and get out of there, but suddenly he heard the sound of approaching horses. He turned to warn Arthur, noting that he was already aware of it, but it was too late! Three horses rounded the bend, and Dutch narrowed his eyes at them. Those green neckerchiefs looked familiar.

“Look what we got here, boys! A stopped stagecoach and Dutch van der Linde!” And Dutch realized who it was. Connor O’Driscoll.

A long time ago, when Hosea abandoned them for a year to try a domestic life with Bessie, Dutch met Connor O’Driscoll and his older brother, Colm. They ran several jobs together, occasionally with Arthur, too. It was mutually beneficial, but Dutch and the O’Driscolls, Colm especially, didn’t quite see eye-to-eye.

As Colm grew his gang, gathering many Irish immigrants that had become disillusioned with the American dream that they and often their parents had been seeking, his ruthless nature extended beyond his treatment of his victims. Colm viewed his men as expendable numbers, dressing them all in a uniform of green and black. They weren’t a family, like Dutch had created. His organization reminded Dutch too much of the large factories run by rich men. Everyone was the same and replaceable, and Dutch was sure that Colm knew few of his followers’ names. They parted ways with an uneasy truce, and really they hadn’t run into either O’Driscoll brother in a long time.

“Looks like you could use some help,” Connor continued.

“No need, gentlemen,” Dutch said carefully.

“But your witnesses are still alive,” Connor laughed, drawing his pistol and firing into the driver’s chest before Dutch could say a word. The woman in the coach screamed.

“Why did you do that?” Dutch shouted. “That was unnecessary!”

“They knew your name. I think I just did you a favor, Dutch,” Connor said.

Dutch stopped the retort that Connor was the reason for his identity reveal from leaving his mouth, instead asserting, “I had this under control.”

“Seeing as I’m helping you out, I’d say I should get a cut of this take. Seems fair to me,” Connor sneered. He dismounted and moved towards the guard and Arthur.

“Again, you’re not needed here. In fact, you are doing the opposite of helping,” said Dutch. He met Arthur’s eyes in a quick glance. Arthur’s revolver sat in his hand, not pointed at anyone yet. He was waiting for Dutch to make the first move.

But Connor noticed Arthur’s ready posture. “Put that gun away, boy,” Connor said. “The adults are talking.”

“Ah, the adults, is it?” Dutch said, sneaking a nod to Arthur to do as Connor said. “And here I thought you didn’t do anything without Colm’s permission.”

He planned to redirect Connor attention to himself and give Arthur a chance to slip back to his horse. He could tell back when they worked together that Colm exercised immense control over all his gang members, including his younger brother. But Connor kept his eyes on Arthur while he spoke, pistol threateningly close to being pointed at his chest. “You know, I never understood why Colm kept you around. That was a mistake on his part. Perhaps I wasn’t clear about my generous offer. Give me half the take, or I leave here with all of it.”

The threat was clear, their choices limited. Dutch’s mind turned with his options, the words he could craft into a persuasive speech, the speed in which he could draw his guns. He didn’t want to give up any of their money. Arthur glanced between Dutch and Connor, waiting for direction, when Connor’s attention shifted. “Looks like someone’s spying on us!” he laughed with glee. Dutch’s eyes widened as he realized who Connor was talking about. John was watching them from behind a boulder, unaware of the danger he was in.

Several things happened at once. Before Dutch could fully draw his revolver, Connor aimed towards John. Arthur threw himself at Connor, trying to push the gun up and away from John. The gun fired, and Arthur went down with a shout. But in the seconds as Connor gathered himself to go after John again, Dutch pulled the trigger. Connor O’Driscoll died the instant the bullet went through his head.

“Fuck!” one of the O’Driscolls yelled. Dutch pulled his second Schofield from his holster, setting his sights on both O’Driscoll lackeys, but they had already turned and spurred their horses back down the road. 

“That’s right! Ride off like the cowards you are!” he called out after them. Only when they were around the corner did Dutch holster his guns and run to Arthur.

“Talk to me, Arthur. How bad is it?” Dutch asked, leaning over his son. Arthur clutched at his left arm, and there was blood all over his front! But close examination revealed that the bullet had just grazed him. The rest of the blood had to be from Connor, whose body had collapsed next to him.

“I’ll be fine, Dutch. Just give me a second,” Arthur groaned, breathing harshly through the pain.

“Of course you are,” Dutch said. He heard the coach turn and head back towards town, and knew they didn’t have long before the law was alerted or the O’Driscolls decided to return. “You alright, John?” he called out.

“I’m okay. Is Arthur okay?” John asked.

“He will be. Head back to camp, son, but keep off the road and avoid the law! We’ll be right behind you.”

As John took off into the woods, Arthur said, “Why’d that fool come back here anyway?”

“He must have heard the shot, he was probably worried about us. Now, let’s just wrap this quick and get out of here. Hosea can patch this up properly later.”

Arthur let out a dry chuckle. “Hosea is gonna kill us.”

“He’ll lecture us to death for sure,” Dutch said, tightening Arthur’s bandanna around the wound. “If you’re lucky, he’ll wait until after he’s bandaged this up.” Dutch grabbed Arthur’s other arm and hauled him to his feet.

He started to steer Arthur towards his own horse, but Arthur protested, “I can ride by myself, Dutch!”

“I’m sure you can,” Dutch said. He reluctantly let Arthur go to Boadicea, cringing a little at Arthur’s wince as he pulled himself into the saddle.

Hosea was going to kill him. He would blame Dutch for putting John in a dangerous situation, but how was Dutch to know that the O’Driscolls were in the area? Or that Connor O’Driscoll would choose today of all days to grow a backbone? It wasn’t his fault!

They moved quickly but carefully back to camp, though Arthur pulled off to the side near the creek and got down off Boadicea. “I’m going to get some of this blood off.”

“Arthur, that water is freezing!”

“It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t get that wound wet.”

“I’ll watch it, okay?”

“Arthur-”

“I don’t want Isaac to see me like this!”

Dutch wanted to protest more, wanted to get back to camp as fast as possible, but he had to concede that the blood covering Arthur’s clothing was a ghastly sight. No need to scare anyone more than necessary.

Arthur washed much of the blood off as fast as possible, but he was shivering when he got out of the creek. “Come on, they’re probably worried,” he said through chattering teeth, almost as if he was encouraging himself. At least it was still early in the day, and the sun was warm despite the cool breeze off the mountains.

That didn’t stop Hosea’s wrath when they rode back to camp.

“It’s about time! Do you have any idea how worried I was when John got back and said Arthur got shot! And why is he soaked?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Dutch started to say, but Hosea was already dragging Arthur to his tent.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes and warmed up,” Hosea was saying as a helped peel the wet jacket off Arthur’s shoulders.

“Ow!” Arthur hissed as his shirt fabric moved past the wound.

“You’re fine, son,” Dutch said.

“Let’s just clean this and wrap it. You got off lucky.” Hosea placed a blanket over Arthur’s shoulders. “Miss Grimshaw? Do we have any of that soup hot and ready? Arthur could use something to warm up.”

“It should be ready in a minute,” Miss Grimshaw said from outside the tent.

“Hey, take all your wet clothes off,” Hosea said, pointing at his jeans.

“Seriously?” Arthur said.

“Seriously. I won’t have you getting sick. Here’s another blanket, if you are worried about your modesty.”

Arthur grumbled but did as he was told.

Hosea upended a bottle of alcohol onto a rag and dabbed at the wound, ignoring how Arthur’s fingers dug into the cot. “I thought I told you to take care of yourself,” Hosea said.

“You also told me to take care of John,” Arthur groaned. “I was looking out for him.”

“That’s true. Fine, you’re off the hook for this one.”

“Where’s Isaac?” Arthur asked suddenly.

“Bessie and Anna are keeping him occupied, but he’s going to need to see you. He knows something happened. John made it seem worse than it actually is.”

“I had a lot of blood on me, someone else’s. Figured I should wash up before Isaac saw.”

“Probably for the best.” Hosea finished cleaning and quickly bandaged the wound. “There, done!” He tossed a fresh union suit at Arthur and gave him some privacy.

But as soon as the tent flapped was lowered back down, Hosea turned on Dutch with the ferocity of a grizzly bear. “I could strangle you, Dutch van der Linde! What happened out there?” he demanded.

Dutch could feel the beginnings of a major headache forming. “We stopped the coach just fine. Then Connor O’Driscoll showed up.”

“What?”

Dutch told the whole story, Hosea pacing back and forth, the rant building with each of Dutch’s words. “It happened fast, Hosea. Too fast.”

“I thought you and Colm agreed to stay out of each other’s way?”

“Apparently Connor disagreed,” Dutch huffed.

“We need to get out of here. Move to another town.”

“Why? We’re not ready to cross the Grizzlies yet.”

“Because Colm is going to want revenge, you fool!”

“Hosea, we’ll be fine!” Dutch insisted. “They may know we’re in the area, but who knows how far away they are. It was just Connor and two other men on the trail, I don’t even think they were looking to rob that stagecoach. We aren’t ready to move right now. We made some good money, so let’s focus on getting supplies.”

“I’m just nervous, that’s all,” Hosea said. “I never liked those O’Driscoll brothers, but Colm’s not an idiot! We need to be careful.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Hosea. He drew on John.”

“I know,” Hosea said with a sigh. “I know. Remind me to teach that boy how to hide better if he’s not going to do as he’s told.”

“I don’t blame him for coming back,” Dutch insisted. While foolish, it had demonstrated the bravery and loyalty he always knew John was capable of. “For all he knew, one of us had been killed.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dutch saw the tent flap move as Arthur tried to sneak out. Hosea saw it, too. “Nope, back in bed and under that blanket! You are not leaving until you warm up.”

“Sun’s warm enough. Can’t I sit by the fire?”

“Fine, but with the blanket.”

“Fine,” Arthur relented. “Is Isaac around?”

Before Dutch could even look around, he heard the boy shout out, “Pa!” and run straight up to Arthur, throwing his arms around his legs. “John said you got hurt and I was so scared,” he sobbed.

“Hey now, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Arthur tried to say.

“You said no one would get hurt and you got hurt!”

“It’s just a scratch. Accidents happen.”

The crying didn’t stop, if anything it got louder. Arthur’s worried eyes glanced between Hosea, Bessie and Annabelle when Isaac said, “You can’t die, too.”

“Hey, Isaac, look at me. Please? Just look at me,” Arthur tried, pulling off his hat so Isaac could see his full face and cupping his hands around his cheeks. “I’m just fine, see?”

“Please don’t go!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur said firmly, as a promise.

Bessie cleared her throat and said, “How about you two go sit by the fire? You can tell your father all about your reading lesson, Isaac. That was fun wasn’t it?”

“You’re reading now?” Arthur asked. “Already?”

“Uncle Hosea told me all the letters,” Isaac said, still sniffling. But Bessie’s distraction was starting to work.

“Oh, he’s Uncle Hosea now?”

Dutch stayed back as the three of them went towards the fire, watching them fuss over Isaac. So much for things going back to normal. He noticed John sticking to the edge of camp again and asked, “You alright, John?”

“I guess,” John said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess things up! I just thought you might have been in trouble and-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, son. You did good with the distraction, and I’ll never blame you for caring about your family.”

John’s face brightened a fraction, then dropped back to a frown. “Is Arthur mad at me?”

“Oh, I doubt it. He knows why you came back, and it was just a scratch. Everything will be fine!”

Really, it was fine. They got nearly five hundred dollars in cash from the stagecoach, plus a few items to fence. They would be ready to cross the Grizzlies soon, he could feel it. The plan was still on track.


	5. Moose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to find 3 star moose in my playthrough, because I'm determined to get Arthur all the clothes I can. I searched for multiple tricks on Youtube, finally got one, then I'm just casually riding near Lake Owanjila and bagged a second. It was perfect timing! Now Arthur has a lovely pair of Moose Batwing Chaps and Moose Range Gloves!

John tried to avoid staring at Isaac and Arthur all day, but still he felt his eyes gravitating towards them. More often than not, his brother was surrounded by Hosea and Bessie and Annabelle and sometimes Susan, though not so much after he had heard Isaac call Susan mean. He forced himself to hide his laughter behind coughs after that one.

He wasn’t jealous. That would be stupid. Of course little kids needed attention. John remembered that from his short stay at the orphanage after his father got himself killed. The kids needed all their food made for them, the nuns would tie their shoes and help them with their clothes. But John was considered to be one of the older kids. If John needed help with anything, he was ignored or told to figure it out. If he complained, he would be hit, then screamed at as a reminder not to be jealous.

He was almost an adult now. He went on his first job with Dutch a week ago. It was stupid to be jealous.

He couldn’t help it.

“Susan! Guess what I found!” Annabelle called out as she returned from town atop her dappled gray Arabian, Leo. Dutch stole the gorgeous horse for her quite early in their courtship, when Annabelle became an official member of the gang. His full name was Leonardo, after a painter that Annabelle read about once, but Annabelle usually just called him Leo.

John tried not to be happy about how Annabelle didn’t go straight to Isaac and Arthur like she normally did.

“What is it?” Susan asked.

Annabelle laughed and put on what she referred to as the high society voice, straightening her back and putting her chin up. “Well, I happened to be in the restaurant near all those fancy houses when I overheard Mrs. Cunningham telling her friends about her luncheon tomorrow afternoon, and how it will rival those parties they have in New York City. And of course I had to mention how my husband and I had just moved here from New York.”

“Oh, of course!”

“Yes, so I introduced myself. And I could tell they were trying to send me away, even with the enticement of having an actual New Yorker at their party. Mrs. Cunningham tried to gently let me know that they’ve never had a colored girl attend before. So I said, ‘No one ever seemed to mind at a New York party!’”

“Do they? In New York?” Susan asked, genuinely curious.

“Who knows, I’ve never been! But Mrs. Cunningham bought it. Though then she said something like, ‘But this is a women’s only party, so you can’t bring your husband, and you don’t want to attend this party without a friend, do you? That would be rather lonely.’ Good thing I mentioned my dear friend, Susan!”

Susan took Annabelle by the arm, leading her back to her tent. “I guess we have to see what clothes we’ve got. We might need to go shopping.”

“Seems a good excuse as any to wash my hair and change it up a bit.”

“What are you ladies up to?” Dutch asked, having heard their giggling.

“We have an invitation to a fancy party just ripe for a bit of pickpocketing and information,” Annabelle said.

“But we may need some money for dresses,” Susan added.

“And you might get to see me with my hair down. And if some jewels happen to end up there, well, that’s not my problem! But don’t worry, I’ll be careful with it. I remember how easily small pieces can get stuck!”

John knew the incident she was referring to well. Annabelle’s black hair was made up of numerous small, tight curls that had an uncanny ability to lock items in place, and Annabelle was known to leave pencils tucked behind her ears for safe keeping. A twelve-year old John thought it would be a fun prank to put things in her hair, and it was until he selected a fork as the next item. It was Susan’s job to untangle the fork and separate the hair from it, and though the women had a good laugh about it afterward, John earned the scolding of a lifetime from Susan. Annabelle was far more gentle, taking John to the side and letting him know why it wasn’t okay. It endeared her to John, and Susan took the brunt of the future pranks.

Lately, Annabelle simply guided the curls into larger twists and then back into a bun.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you find,” Dutch said. “And your outfit.”

“And what is your plan for the day?” Annabelle asked.

To John’s surprise, Dutch waved him over. “Hosea and I were thinking that it’s about time you got a proper horse.”

“Really?” John asked.

“Sure! You’re getting rather tall. And we made a good bit of money last week. What better way to celebrate your first job!”

“But what about Daisy?” he asked.

“I’m sure the stable can find her a good home.”

“Actually,” Hosea said, “I was thinking that Daisy might be a good pony for Isaac. One day, of course. But she’s not too old and was great for teaching John.”

If John was a little annoyed at Isaac being the center of everyone’s thoughts again, it was overshadowed by the idea of Daisy sticking with their gang. He did love that pony, but he was excited at the prospect of getting a horse. “Can we go today?”

“That’s up to Hosea. He’s the one taking you.”

“Can we?” John asked, turning to Hosea.

“I don’t see why not. Arthur, want to come with us? Take a break, get out of camp? Bessie said she’d watch Isaac.”

The way Hosea looked at Arthur, with a bit of mischief in his eyes, meant that Hosea had some sort of scheme cooking.

“Sure. Guess someone’s got to make sure John makes a good choice.”

“Hey!”

“He’ll do fine, Arthur,” Hosea said. “Go on, tack up your horse.”

Arthur went over to Bo, but Hosea followed John. “What are you planning?” John asked bluntly.

“I just thought Arthur might need a break. Isaac’s been a little clingy since that stagecoach.”

That was an understatement. Isaac didn’t leave Arthur’s side, ever. He heard the kid crying at night, and the whispered attempts from Arthur to keep him calm and quiet.

“And,” Hosea continued, “You two haven’t had much chance to talk since Isaac got here. It might be good for you. I have a feeling there’s some stuff you want to say.”

Damn old bastard.

Because there were many things he wanted to say to Arthur, but he wasn’t sure how to say them yet. And if he dealt with by avoiding Arthur and his kid, that was his business!

“Fine,” John said.

“That’s my boy,” Hosea said, raising his hand slowly and ruffling John’s hair. John ducked away and went to mount Daisy.

“Pa? Where are you going?” Isaac asked, running up to Arthur and Bo.

“Just into town with Hosea and John. You can stay with Bessie.”

“No, don’t leave!” Isaac shouted.

“I’m helping John pick a new horse. I won’t be gone long,” Arthur tried to say.

“No!” Isaac screamed, grabbing Arthur’s leg. “No, no, no, no!”

“Isaac, enough of this now, you hear!” Susan said.

“No!”

“Come on, sweetie,” Bessie said, holding out her hand.

“No! You’re not my ma!” Isaac said. “I want my ma. I want to go home!

“We can’t, Isaac,” Arthur said.

“I want to go home!”

“We can’t!” Arthur shouted. “This is home now!”

Isaac stepped back from Arthur, eyes wide. Bessie tried reaching for him, but he ducked away, right into Annabelle. She lifted him up easily, despite his twisting and struggling. “Why don’t we have a little chat, Isaac.”

“I want Mama!”

“I know you do. I know. But we’re going to have a chat.” They disappeared into Annabelle’s tent.

Arthur put on his hat, pulling it low over his eyes.

“Shall we?” Hosea said, and turned Silver Dollar down the trail and kicking him forward. John and Arthur followed behind.

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Arthur grumbled.

“No, probably not. But I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Hosea said. “He can’t stay be your side all day, every day. A little time apart might be good for both of you.”

“I guess,” Arthur said unconvincingly.

“So John, what kind of horse are you thinking about getting? This stable has a good variety,” Hosea said.

“Strong, and big,” he said. John wanted a horse that could keep up over the long distances they often traveled. Daisy had been struggling a little with his weight coming to Colorado.

“I think there are a few that fit those descriptions,” said Hosea.

The rest of the trip was filled with Hosea giving advice on selecting a horse. Normally, Arthur would have added his own thoughts. Arthur absolutely loved horses, and usually took care of their small herd. But not that day. He just looked lost.

John felt the same. Hosea wanted John to talk to Arthur, but John didn’t know what to say.

“Here we are!” Hosea announced when they arrived. “Now I suggest looking inside the building. That’s where the best horses are.”

John ran off to the stable, determined to look each horse over before making his decision. There was a pretty nice Appaloosa, but the stallion didn’t seem to like him very much. He spent a little while next to the Standardbred, thinking about getting a race horse like Boadicea. Ultimately, the horse seemed too jumpy, not good for gunfights.

He kept returning to a chestnut Dutch Warmblood. The gelding snorted and bumped his outstretched hand.

“That one, son?” Hosea asked, coming up behind him.

“Yeah,” John said.

“He looks good,” Arthur said. “Pretty healthy.”

The stable owner appeared and said, “That’s a good choice. He’s one hundred dollars.”

John’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t have one hundred dollars, maybe once they fenced the rest of the items, but not now. He went to walk away, but Hosea said, “Seventy-five.”

“Ninety-five.”

“Eighty.”

“Ninety, and not a cent less, sir,” the owner said.

“Fine,” Hosea said, “But only if you throw in a new brush and some treats.”

“You have a deal!” the owner said, shaking his hand. Hosea pulled out the cash.

“You’re buying him for me?” John asked, completely shocked.

“Of course! We bought Arthur’s first horse for him.”

John remembered the adorable Paint Arthur had when he first joined the gang. Arthur ended up selling him cheaply to a nice family that lost their horse in an accident after he got Bo. Technically, Dutch and Hosea hadn’t bought Daisy for him. Daisy had been stolen from the homestead where… well… Dutch found him.

Hosea helped fill out the horse papers while Arthur quick ran to the general store. Soon, John’s new horse was saddled up and ready for the ride back to camp. But Hosea wasn’t done with them just yet. As they passed the field just before the creek, Hosea pulled up and said, “I think I want to do a little fishing before we get back. Why don’t you ride around this field with Arthur? Start bonding with your new horse, maybe talk a bit.” He sent John a wink.

John just rolled his eyes back. Of course that was the old man’s plan.

“I should be getting back,” Arthur tried to say, but Hosea shook his head.

“Nonsense! Spend a little time with John, you two have barely spoken since you got back.” With that, Hosea got off Silver Dollar with his fishing rod and turned the horse loose into the field. Silver walked a few feet away with Daisy and started grazing.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shall we?”

“Sure.”

They started towards the other end of the field at a trot, easy and casual. Bo’s long legs always ate up the dirt, but his new horse was keeping stride easily. After a few minutes, they nudged the horses up to a canter, circling around the field and coming back towards Hosea.

“You think of a name for him?” Arthur asked.

“Not yet.”

“Just pick a good one.”

“Like _Boadicea_?” John asked sarcastically. “Seriously, how did you ever come up with that?”

“Hey, Boadicea was a queen! She fought the Romans!”

“Where’d you even hear about her, anyway?”

“One of Dutch’s books.”

“You actually read that crap?” John laughed. “I ain’t naming my horse after some lady in a book.”

“I should hope not, you got a boy.” Pulling Bo back to a walk, Arthur abruptly changed the conversation topic. “So, uh, Hosea thinks we have something to talk about?”

He didn’t want to ask, not only because he didn’t think Arthur would answer, but also because he was afraid of the answer he could receive. But it was eating at him, had been ever since Arthur showed up with that boy.

“I guess,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Well, what is it?”

He couldn’t stop himself. He blurted it out, harsh and blunt.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a kid?”

Arthur didn’t answer at first. In fact, John was drowning in the silence. Staring at Arthur expectantly, waiting for a word of reassurance, knowing nothing could be said that would make him feel better but hoping Arthur would at least try.

“Well?” John asked.

“Shit, I don’t know. It happened before you came along, and Dutch never seemed to like it brought up in camp. Honestly I’m surprised you never heard Dutch complaining about it when I went to visit. Where did you think I was going all those times?”

“I thought you were seeing Mary Gillis!”

“You didn’t know I had a kid but you know about Mary? I haven’t seen Mary in years,” Arthur said.

Arthur hadn’t told him about Mary, either. John overheard Susan complaining about her one of the times Arthur left and asked. Susan was more than happy to share the whole story about Mary, her short engagement to Arthur, and their eventual breakup when she decided that her father’s wishes for her future were more important than his brother. On top of that, Susan believed that Mary often used Arthur, playing on his love for her and using the helpless rich girl act to get him to do things for her that she deemed to be unpleasant. Naturally, John always assumed Arthur was running off to see her and that’s why Susan was annoyed. Maybe Susan hadn’t known about Isaac, either. Still, that didn’t excuse Arthur. “So, you just didn’t tell me?”

“I guess I… that part of my life was separate from the gang and… it just never felt right bringing it up here.” Arthur avoided looking at John, choosing to stare at the reins in his hand.

“But you brought him here.”

“His ma died. I had to.”

“I know, I just…” John didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t know where it was going, anyway.

“I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” John said, still sour. His horse, tired of just standing around, pulled his head forward to nibble on some grass.

Immediately, Arthur said, “Get his head up. He’s going to get grass stuck in his bit.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let him bully you around.”

“I know! Jesus,” John muttered.

“You did make a good choice,” Arthur said.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “You know what? I bet my horse is faster than yours!”

“You know I have a race horse, right?”

“Bet I can get to the downed tree on the other side before you!” said John.

“You’re on!” Arthur laughed, but the laughed turned to a shout when John spurred his horse forward without warning. “Hey!”

John let out a triumphant whoop, but his lead didn’t last as long as he hoped. Boadicea bore down on him fast, and overtook him halfway across the field. “Dammit, Arthur!” John shouted after him, not that Arthur heard over the thundering hooves. He tapped his horse with the spurs, urging him on.

But Arthur was right, Boadicea was simply too fast. Cheering as he passed the fallen tree and pulling Bo up, Arthur took a moment to mock John, as usual. “Even with a fancy new horse, you still can’t beat me.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” John said.

“You want to try your luck on the way back?”

Arthur went to turn Bo around, but she pinned her ears and started tossing her head. John’s horse also danced nervously. “What is it, Bo?” Arthur asked.

A low, loud snort sounded behind them. A huge bull moose crept out from the bushes, pawing the ground. Arthur reached for his rifle, saying, “Easy, boy.”

The moose bellowed and charged.

Immediately, Boadicea spun and fled. Arthur twisted around, trying to aim back at the moose. But John’s horse didn’t run, instead he held his ground to the last second before sidestepping the monster and kicking out with his back legs. His hooves made contact, causing the moose to stagger a little. At the same time, Arthur fired, hitting the moose in the skull. The ground shook when it fell.

“Shit!” Arthur said. “John, you alright?”

“Yeah. That thing is huge!”

“I know. Haven’t seen a moose in some time. I forgot how big they are.”

“Hey Arthur, guess what?”

“What?”

John grin widened. “My horse is braver than yours!”

“Shut up! Your horse is dumber than mine.”

Another horse was running up behind them, and John turned to take in the color draining from Hosea’s face. “What happened? Why are you shooting?”

John pointed down at the moose and said, “Moose.”

“Charged us,” Arthur added.

“I’m glad you’re both alright!” Hosea whistled, and said, “Damn, what a beauty! We’re going to eat well tonight. You know what this means, right? You boys are going to learn how to skin a moose!”

Both John and Arthur groaned.

Skinning such a large animal was messy and time consuming. The sun was starting to set by the time they loaded up the meat, antlers, and pelt onto their horses, but all three had triumphant grins on their faces as they road into camp.

“Well, you had a productive afternoon,” Dutch said. “That’s a fine animal you got there, John. Both of them.”

“I thought of the perfect name for him,” John said. “Moose!”

“Moose? What kind of stupid name is that?” Arthur immediately said.

“Better name than Boadicea!”

“No, it’s not! Boadicea is a great name!”

“I think it’s wonderful, son,” Dutch said. “Moose will be a fine steed, I can feel it. Now, let’s have ourselves a feast!”

John began unloading the meat with Hosea when Isaac ran up to Arthur. “Pa! You came back,” he said.

“Of course I did,” Arthur said. “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Anna taught me how to braid hair, and we picked flowers.”

Bessie walked over, her hair in awkward, uneven braids with flowers sticking out. “You did a fine job,” Arthur lied.

“Can I do yours, Anna?” Isaac asked.

Annabelle smiled and said, “Not today, sweetheart. I’ve got to get my hair ready for a party! Another time, maybe.”

It was stupid to be jealous.

But as he watched Arthur wander off with his son, he knew that feeling wouldn’t fade anytime soon.


	6. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing some new characters here... it's always fun trying to make whole characters out of vague references you may or may not here in the game.

He tried to ignore Dutch walking over, hoping the man would take the hint. Mistakes had been made the previous night when Arthur, having picked up some candy while waiting on John's horse to be ready, tried to make up for abandoning Isaac to Annabelle and Bessie for the afternoon by letting him consume copious amounts of it. The result was a very hyper child that would not sleep until well after midnight, though somehow he was up and ready to play with Copper at six in the morning.

"Hey, Arthur! There's a house that's supposed to be sitting on a lot of cash one town over. Want to check it out?"

Damn.

"I don't know, Dutch," he replied.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

He could tell that Dutch wasn't about to give up and almost resigned himself to the job when Hosea appeared. "Arthur is tired, Dutch. He had a late night."

"He always seems to have late nights, nowadays," Dutch said, with a hint of anger in his voice. Arthur managed not to flinch at the low growl and the hard eyes.

Hosea didn't miss it, either. "You have something you want to say?"

"Maybe," Dutch snarled.

"So say it!"

With a scoff, Dutch strode off to his tent. Hosea rolled his eyes and went after him.

"You following me now?" Dutch yelled.

"Until you stop being an ass, yes! What is your problem?"

"Arthur is the one with the problem! Why isn't that boy working?" Dutch shouted. He was too loud. He had to know Arthur could hear him. "He used to be a man of action! Scoping out leads, finding us work. I never had to worry about him. But now? He's always in camp. I never expected this lazy behavior from him!"

Dutch must have wanted Arthur to hear him. That didn't stop the words from crushing him, forcing the air from his lungs and not letting them expand again.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Hosea shouted back. "He just went on that stagecoach job with you."

"A week ago!"

"Oh, and you've done so much since then, haven't you?" The sarcasm dripped heavily from his words. Arthur knew he should leave, scoop Isaac up and get him away from what was building to be a monumental Dutch-Hosea fight. But he couldn't move.

"Did you not hear about the house I found? We could have more leads if Arthur was out there searching, too. We need supply money, and we don't want to blow our whole savings, do we? And I thought Arthur understood that, but no! He just stays in camp."

"Oh, and I suppose raising a child is nothing? He's a parent, that's not a job for the lazy! Arthur works harder than anyone here, and if you can't see that, then you are hopeless!"

"Is that how it's going to be?" Dutch asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Arthur just dedicates himself to parenting? Without earning his keep?"

"I'd rather have Arthur raise that boy right than get himself killed out there trying to meet your ridiculous standards!"

He didn't hear the footsteps behind him until the hand touched his shoulder, light and soft. He did flinch away that time, choking on the tiny breaths he managed to get in. "Oh, Arthur," Bessie said.

"Pa?" Isaac had stopped playing with Copper, instead watching Arthur. Arthur couldn't even find the words to say he was fine, not that they would have been true.

Bessie stepped around him, walking up to Dutch and Hosea. "WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP!" They both did, immediately. Bessie never raised her voice like that. "If you are going to fight, do it outside of camp!" She turned on her heel, dropping the anger for Arthur's sake. "Come on, honey," she said, gently pulling Arthur to his feet and leading him to her tent with one hand around his arm and the other grasping Isaac's hand. John was already inside, watching Dutch and Hosea retreat into the woods through the tent flaps.

"Oh, hi," John said awkwardly. "I can go-"

"You can stay," Bessie said. "I think it would be good if we all stay in here for a minute. Besides, since Susan and Annabelle went to that party, I think we deserve the afternoon to ourselves, don't you agree?"

"Sounds good to me," John said, but Arthur shook his head.

"No, Dutch is right." He went to stand. "I haven't been doing anything. I need to work more."

"Dutch is an idiot," Bessie said, pushing him back down.

"Is Pa okay?" Isaac asked her. Arthur felt his face turning red with embarrassment. He knew everyone was watching him. Even Copper could tell something was wrong, joining Arthur on the ground and laying his head in Arthur's lap to stare up at him with his big, brown eyes.

"He'll be fine," said Bessie, pulling him into a hug. "He just doesn't like it when those two argue."

Arguing was an understatement. Dutch and Hosea fought all the time, but never to that degree. And never about him! At least, not since he was fourteen, and that was usually a fight about how best to raise a teenager.

"I didn't like it," Isaac said. "They are loud and scary!"

"And that's why I told them to leave," she said as a matter of fact. She wrapped one arm around Arthur, and the other around John, hugging them close. "You know what might make your father feel better? You could show him your new braiding skills! I think his hair is long enough."

"Braids?" John snorted.

"Maybe you should do John's after," Arthur shot back. "Then again, it's kind of gross. When's the last time you had a bath, Marston?"

"Last week!"

"Are you a girl?" Isaac asked John.

"What? No!"

"But your hair is long like a girl's!"

The slight laugh fell out of Arthur before he even realized. It only increased when John sputtered, "It's not that long!" Though Arthur thought John should check a mirror, it was past his shoulders already.

"Men can have long hair," Arthur told Isaac. "Providing they take care of it."

"Really?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah, you know, you got to comb it once in a while. Otherwise it will mat up and someone is going to have to lob it off with a pair of scissors," he said pointedly at John. John tried to smack him from around Bessie.

Isaac crawled up onto Hosea's cot behind Arthur and grabbed a chunk of Arthur's hair under Bessie's supervision. He was surprisingly gentle, though he was sure the small braid was very loose. "I should let you do Boadicea's mane sometime."

Outside the tent, Hosea returned to camp huffing and stomping his feet. He went to enter the tent, but Bessie called out to him, "The boys are in here. You calmed down?"

Pausing, Hosea breathed in deep and gave a shaky exhale. "I'm calm."

"Good. Come in."

Hosea slipped inside, looking guilty as he barely met Arthur's eyes. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that."

"It's alright."

"No, it isn't." Hosea sat down on Arthur's other side, also wrapping an arm around him.

When was the last time any of them had sat like this? Briefly after he came back with Isaac, he supposed. But before that? He couldn't remember. They'd been very busy with jobs and a string of successes, and he supposed he hadn't really needed this in a long time. He leaned his head back onto the cot, eyes closed, relishing Hosea's hand rubbing his back, the soft tugging on his hair, Bessie's encouraging words, the scraping of a knife against wood as John began whittling, probably needing to do something with his hands but wanting to stay with family.

Of course, the family wasn't complete. "Where's Dutch?" Arthur asked.

"Stormed off somewhere, maybe to rob that house he was talking about. Or the saloon," Hosea said. "Don't you worry about him. Worry about what your hair looks like right now."

"Isaac is doing a lovely job," Bessie said.

"He sure is!"

Arthur smiled, and tried to ignore Dutch's words. Still, they lingered, along with the fear that Dutch was right. He wasn't doing enough. He didn't deserve to stay here.

Still, they sat a little longer, until some noises outside the tent caused Copper to jump up and begin baying. "Now, where is everybody?" Susan called into camp.

Hosea stood, his knees cracking, and went to meet them. "How did you ladies do?"

"We got ourselves some nice items!" Annabelle giggled. "And had a bit too much wine."

"Seems so. Susan, your face is redder than a tomato."

"Hush, you!" Susan said.

Hosea laughed. "I hope your drinking didn't get in the way of your robbing."

"If you must know, we snagged these bottles on the way out."

"Glad you managed to stay on your horses!"

Bessie stood up, too. "Shall we get dinner started?" she asked Arthur and John. "It's getting late!"

"Sure," Arthur replied. "At least we don't have to go hunting with all that moose meat."

"No, we won't need more for a while! Alright, Isaac, let's tie off those braids so your father can help get food ready."

"Okay!" Isaac said. "Do you like them, Pa?"

Bessie grabbed some mirrors so that he could see. Just like Bessie's the day before, Arthur's braids were a little lumpy and the strands were uneven. "I like them a lot!" he told Isaac.

"Come on, let's wash up!" Bessie said, and they all went out to prepare dinner. They ate while listening to Annabelle recalled the rich ladies she'd spent the afternoon with, and what terrible people they were. If Susan and Annabelle were wondering why Dutch was missing, they didn't say anything. Perhaps Hosea had managed to let them know while Arthur was out of earshot. He kept expecting Dutch to stumble in, drunkenly claiming he was the one who had been wronged and demanding apologies.

But Dutch didn't come back that night, nor was he there when they woke the next morning. He could tell Hosea was preparing to send out a search party when they saw Nero and a pair of Tennessee Walkers coming up the trail. Arthur squinted. The boys looked familiar.

"Hosea!" Dutch said, all cheer and grins. "Meet Mac and Davey Callander!"

"Your poker friends? What are they doing here, Dutch?" Hosea asked suspiciously.

"Why Mac, Davey, and I have become rather well-acquainted these last few weeks, and I thought I'd see how they would do with a simple house robbery." Dutch glanced at Arthur as he spoke. "They did a fine job, so I invited them back here."

"You must be Hosea. I'm Davey," the taller one said.

Hosea shook his hand, and said, "Forgive me for being a little taken aback. Dutch here failed to discuss his interest in you joining us."

"Ah, well, maybe we can split this bottle and call it even," Davey said, pulling out a fifth of whiskey.

"We'll see," Hosea replied. "This is Arthur and his son, Isaac. That one's John. My wife, Bessie. Susan and Annabelle."

"The ugly fucker behind me is my brother, Mac."

"Who you calling ugly?"

"You always had a horse's ass for a face."

"I'll break your nose, see who you calling ugly then!"

"They are quite interesting characters, are they not?" Dutch said.

"That's one word for it," Arthur muttered.

Dutch ignored him. "Let's open that bottle!"

* * *

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to think of Mac and Davey Callander by the end of the first night. They were loud, for sure. Violent, too. Arthur had to step between Hosea and Mac when Mac called Hosea a cheat during a game of blackjack. Sure, Hosea probably was cheating, but they were playing for pennies. Then Davey, stumbling drunk, had knocked over Isaac. That led to a fight between Davey and Arthur, and then Arthur and Mac when it looked like Arthur was about to successfully pound Davey into the dirt.

So the next morning, a bruised and sore Arthur fully intended to keep himself and Isaac well away from both Callander brothers, but Davey found him quickly. "Hey, sorry about last night. Your kid okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. Right, Isaac?" Arthur said, still positioned protectively in front of his son.

"I'm fine," Isaac said.

"How about we make it even, huh? You can knock me over! Go on, give it your best shot!"

Isaac looked to Arthur for permission, and Arthur nodded. He stepped forward and gave Davey a light shove, but Davey collapsed with an exaggerated gasp. "Ah, he got me! Wow, you're so strong!"

Isaac giggled and Arthur offered Davey a hand back up. Mac also came up and said, "Sorry. But that Hosea definitely cheats."

"He's a conman, what did you expect?" Arthur said.

"I don't know how he does it, though. I was watching him close."

"I've been trying to figure that out for years!"

Maybe they weren't too bad. Arthur certainly had his moments of drunken mishaps, and he truly might have been joining them in downing whole bottles if he didn't have Isaac to look out for now.

But for some reason, Dutch didn't seem too pleased with Arthur getting to know Mac and Davey. "How about us boys head over to Loveland. I think we've done all we can in Fort Collins, and it's close enough we don't need to move camp. Go to the saloon, see if we can dig up some leads. Oh, but wait! I bet Arthur needs to watch his son. Guess it will just be us three!"

That bastard.

But Arthur could be just as, if not more, stubborn.

"Fine. Have fun," he said, and walked away. He hoped Dutch had some other reason to invite two new people into the gang other than to replace him.

"Hey Isaac, what's say you and me go have some fun? What do you want to do today?"

"Can we play a game?"

"Sure! What game?"

Isaac paused, looking up at him with a spark in his eyes, then slapped Arthur on the arm. "Tag! You're it!"

Arthur tried to reach out and grab him, but Isaac darted away. "Oh, get back here!" Arthur called after him. He tried chasing Isaac, but Isaac could duck under the wagons and sprint circles around him.

"I think you are getting a little slow in your age, Arthur," Hosea laughed, watching them.

"What age, old man?" Arthur said, then tapped his arm. "You're it! Good luck!"

"Oh, so that's how you play, is it?" Hosea's head swiveled, looking for his next victim, but Bessie saw it coming. She slipped out of reach. So Hosea tagged an unsuspecting Susan, instead.

"Mr. Matthews! Get back here this instant!" Susan shouted, and soon the entire camp was involved. Even John joined in. Arthur was glad, since he wasn't entirely sure what John thought of Isaac.

As for his son, Arthur had to pause and take in the scene. Isaac ran and laughed, completely carefree, just as he had been before Eliza died.

Of course, stopping only made him a target. "Got you, Arthur!" Annabelle said, and the chase was on again.

Later, when everyone was finally worn out, Susan divvied out the chores and they went on with the tedious parts of camp life. By the time Dutch rode back in with the Callander brothers, having unfortunately not found any good leads during the day out in town, the group was sitting around the campfire, singing songs and sharing stories.

"Well, I'm glad you folks had a good time," Dutch said.

"No luck?" Hosea asked.

"No, not yet. If Loveland has opportunities, they are not so obvious on first glance."

"We'll find something. We should have been good to get over the mountains, but we need more supplies with more mouths to feed."

"A worthy investment in our future, old friend," said Dutch. "We might have more luck with more people searching for leads."

"I can take a trip over there, see what I can dig up."

"I think you know that's not what I mean," Dutch muttered.

"I'm not having this conversation again."

Annabelle nudged Arthur, looking at Isaac in his lap. "I think someone's ready for bed."

Sure enough, Isaac's head was drooping and his eyes were fluttering. "Come on, kid," Arthur said, lifting him up and carrying him back to his tent. Lately, Isaac got the whole cot to himself and Arthur slept in a bedroll on the ground.

"Who's that?" Isaac asked sleepily, pointing at one of the pictures of Arthur's nightstand.

"That's my ma."

"I have a grandma? Can I meet her?"

"No, son, I'm sorry," Arthur said. "She died, when I was about your age. She got sick."

"Oh. What about your pa?"

"Well, this is him." Arthur took down one of the photographs he had hanging along the wall. "He died, too. But he weren't a very nice man."

"He has your hat," Isaac said.

"Well, technically I have his." Arthur pulled the old gambler hat off his head and handed it to Isaac, who promptly plopped it on his own head.

"It doesn't fit!" he laughed, the brim falling right over his eyes.

"Of course not! It's too big!"

"Why is there a hole in it?"

"Uh, that's a story for another time. Why don't you go to sleep now. You had a long day!"

"Okay, Pa."

Arthur tucked his son in, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and went back to the campfire.

"Hey Arthur, a round of cards?" Mac asked, set up with Susan and Hosea.

"Sure, why not," Arthur said.

"You can be my second set of eyes on that one," Mac said, jerking his thumb at Hosea.

"He ain't the one you need to watch out for. Susan somehow beats him even when he's cheating," Arthur replied.

"Damn right I do," said Susan. "Now is one of you boys going to deal or so I have to do everything myself?"

"Here," Hosea said, holding out his hand.

Mac shook his head. "No way am I letting him deal."

"He learns fast, doesn't he?" Hosea said, relinquishing the cards.

It didn't matter who dealt, really. Hosea already had an ace up his sleeve.


	7. Rancher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spending a little time on Hosea and Bessie this chapter, hope you guys enjoy!

As the only ones who hadn't done any robbing their entire time in Colorado, the job of buying supplies from the store and checking the mail usually fell to Hosea and Bessie. To be honest, Hosea was surprised he hadn't gotten involved in any of the jobs. Usually, he'd sniff out the morons and idiots who happened to be sitting on some cash and con them out of it with an investment scheme. But he supposed the appearance of Isaac had forced him to slow down, to pay more attention to his son than potential jobs.

"Did you remember Susan's list?" Bessie asked.

"Oh, I hope so. I don't want to turn around," Hosea said, digging through his satchel. "Here it is!" He brandished the paper with a flourish.

"Good. I didn't want to turn around, either," she laughed.

"Glad to be away from camp?"

"Yes. You know I love spending time with everyone, but I needed a break. Those two new boys…"

"I know. I'm worried they won't fit in with us."

"Davey tripped and fell into some mud last night. You should have heard Susan this morning, dragging him over to the wash barrel."

"That boy can't hold his liquor!" Hosea said.

Bessie's laugh was short. She chewed on her lip, which Hosea knew to be a nervous habit. She hesitated, and said, "I heard Dutch telling John about that house robbery they went on. The owner woke up, and Mac beat him unconscious. No threats, just… ruthless. I just don't know what Dutch was thinking, bringing them here."

"I know. But Dutch has a thing for finding wayward, unruly strays, remember Arthur when he was a teenager?" Several times, Hosea and Dutch had to drag a drunk Arthur away from a fight at the saloon. Their boy was constantly brewing with frustration, anger, and fear in the first few years, and it exploded out of him towards anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. The task of pulling Arthur aside, coaxing his emotions out of him in words rather than fists, often landed on Hosea's shoulders. And Bessie's.

"I know, but Dutch seemed… proud. I just don't want them to be a bad influence on John. That boy can be difficult enough."

"John's gotten a lot better, he's been with us three years now," said Hosea. "He takes regular baths!"

"And I'm worried about how they'll be with Isaac, especially after that first night. At least Davey seems okay around kids."

"True, but I doubt Dutch considered that when he brought them back. The timing suggests something else. It's almost like Dutch is trying to make Arthur jealous."

"Or scared of being replaced," Bessie added.

Hosea hummed, and focused on guiding the wagon around the turn into town. "You buy the groceries and I check the mail?"

"Sure!"

Hosea left her with the wagon and went to the post office. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for dark duster coats and green neckerchiefs. He didn't buy into Dutch's confidence that Colm wouldn't come after them. But he didn't spot any along the street, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Afternoon, sir," he said to the clerk. "Any mail for Tacitus Kilgore?"

"Yes, actually. I know I spotted one yesterday." The clerk shuffled through a box of mail before extracting one letter, the return address being Bessie's sister.

"Thank you," he said, and returned to Bessie to help move the shopping.

Between Hosea and the shop owner, they loaded up the items quickly. "Any news?" Bessie asked as the last box went into the wagon.

"Amy wrote back."

"Oh, good! That everything, sir?"

"That it is." The owner took the money, and the Matthews headed back to camp.

"You going to open it?" Hosea asked, pointing to the letter still in her hands.

"I suppose. I guess I'm a little worried about what Amy has to say about Arthur. She has some idea of who he is, and what all of you do."

"Only one way to find out," Hosea said.

She tugged the envelope open and slid the letter out, her eyes quickly scanning the contents. Hosea could see the moment she found what she was looking for, and her shoulders relaxed. "Amy wants to meet Arthur. She said that he can come back with me this winter, and if he does well, he can stay on!"

"Oh, good!"

"I think she's excited about the idea of having another child on the ranch. Her youngest just turned eight."

"Now we just need to convince Arthur."

"Right," said Bessie. "I don't want to just send him away, but…"

Hosea absolutely hated the idea of sending Arthur away. He loved that boy more than he ever imagined, even thought of him as a son. He knew Bessie felt the same way. But their life was dangerous, the stagecoach job proved that. Isaac already lost one parent, and he was just so young. The stability of ranch life would be good for him, and though he knew Arthur would miss their life and the gang, he had a feeling that Arthur wanted a better life for his son, too. And being with Bessie's sister made visiting easy, for some of the gang, at least.

Dutch, on the other hand, would likely never step foot on the ranch. Hosea didn't know how he was going to get Dutch to understand. He didn't know if it was possible.

Bessie must have been thinking the same thing, because she said, "I think we should see if Arthur's on board before we tell anyone else."

Hosea nodded. "I hope Arthur listens to us. He's very loyal to Dutch, even if Dutch is being an ass right now and can't see it." If Bessie had gotten pregnant after they got married, not that either of them were trying for a baby, Hosea's first thought would have been to pack up his tent, get a job, and buy a homestead. Even without a baby, he did pack up and leave once. He wondered if the thought ever crossed Arthur's mind.

"And we're not forcing him. We're just presenting it as an option, one that we support."

"Right. Even if we're more persuasive than simply supportive," Hosea drawled.

"What if we talk to Annabelle first? I think if anyone could help convince Arthur, it would be her."

"Maybe, but I worry that Dutch will think we were all plotting against him."

"Would he really think that?"

"Yes," Hosea grumbled.

Bessie just shrugged. "I think we should introduce this to Arthur as a temporary option. Just for the winter, to see if he likes it. Give Isaac and him a chance to bond better, surely Arthur didn't get much time before with his short visits. And we need to make it clear that he doesn't have to stay at the ranch if he doesn't want to. He can come back. It's his decision, even if we are encouraging him to take it."

"True. Maybe he can just do what you do, visiting for the spring and summer and leaving for winter. It shouldn't mean goodbye forever."

"You know how much he loves horses, that will help convince him. He'd be amazing at getting the young horses under saddle and ready for sale."

"Remember when he came back with that wild Morgan? And we really couldn't afford to take care of another horse at the time? Took us weeks to convince him that he was too big for it!" Hosea laughed.

"Oh, that horse turned into such a sweetheart. I hated to see her go."

"Amy ever say what kind they want to breed?" Hosea asked.

"Kentucky Saddlers. Good, reliable riding horses. Should be pretty profitable out that way," Bessie said.

They made good time getting back to camp and unloaded the supplies. Once again, Dutch sat next to the Callander boys, laughing or preaching or whatever he decided was a good use of his time. And ignoring everyone else doing chores.

"Hey Arthur, you busy?" he called out to his son, who was carrying hay to the horses while keeping an eye on Isaac playing with two wooden figurines.

"Let me just put this down, what do you need?"

"Just want to talk to you. Come here when you're done."

Arthur dropped the hay bale and joined Hosea and Bessie. They sat within view of Isaac, but far enough away from Dutch that he wouldn't hear them or, hopefully, think to come over.

"Now, before we begin, what is that boy wearing?"

They both turned to Isaac, who had on a pair of purple pants and an orange shirt that clashed horribly, and a large boater hat that Hosea was pretty sure Arthur stole from some guy in South Dakota. Arthur sighed and said, "He wanted to dress himself."

"And you didn't object?" Hosea snickered.

"Eliza said letting kids make their own choices was important!"

"To a point. At least we aren't taking him to town," Hosea said before becoming serious again. "Now then, when you first brought Isaac back here, Bessie and I had a thought. Life in a gang, it might not be best for a boy as young as Isaac. Especially if his father is risking his life on jobs like we do."

"What are you trying to say?" Arthur asked with trepidation, glancing between Hosea and Bessie.

"Arthur, you remember my sister and her ranch, right?" Bessie said. "We were thinking that this winter, you could come with me. Help them with their new horses. And maybe, if you would want a job there, permanently…"

"You don't have to decide now. Hell, you wouldn't have to decide until the end of winter," Hosea jumped in. He could see Arthur tense up, like Boadicea when she was about to bolt. "But we know this has been hard for Isaac and for you-"

"You mean I should leave the gang?"

"No! Well, maybe," Hosea admitted. "I'm not talking about riding out of here forever and never seeing us again. You could travel back and forth with Bessie, or rejoin us when Isaac is a little older. I want you to be happy, Arthur. And safe. And for Isaac to be happy and safe."

"Ranch life could be good for him," Bessie added. "And there's other kids. Older, but still."

"You really think I should do it? What about Dutch?" Arthur asked. As predicted, Arthur was thinking about Dutch in a time like this. If only Dutch could see how loyal Arthur truly was.

"You let me handle Dutch. This isn't about what he wants. It's about what you want!"

Arthur nodded, eyes dropping to the ground. Bessie opened her arms for a hug. "Come here, honey," she said.

After a moment, Arthur shuffled closer and let her wrap her arms around him. He fell into her more with a shuddering breath. "I don't want to leave," he said.

"I know, honey, I know," Bessie said. "But think about it, please?"

"Okay. I guess it could be good. Living with Isaac on a farm."

"Do you want us to mention it to Dutch, or wait?" Hosea asked.

"Might as well get it over with," Arthur groaned.

* * *

"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"It's not your decision."

"THE HELL IT ISN'T!" Dutch roared. "ARTHUR IS A MEMBER OF THIS GANG. HE IS MY SON!"

"He is an adult who can make his own choices," Hosea continued, trying to keep the conversation civil and quiet. Not that it was working. He could see John watching from a back at camp, and Susan too. Apparently they didn't walk far enough away. Fortunately, Arthur himself had been warned in advance of the conversation, and was out of sight in his tent.

"His own decisions?" Dutch asked, his voice quieter but accusatory. "I have a feeling this wasn't Arthur's idea."

"You're right, it wasn't!" Hosea admitted. "Bessie and I just want what's best for Arthur and Isaac."

"Dutch," Annabelle started, "Please calm down. They have a point."

"A point?" Dutch started, turning on Annabelle now. "You are taking their side in this?"

"Side? What side?" she asked. "They aren't forcing Arthur to do anything. It's not one thing or the other."

"Isn't it?"

"You're being irrational."

"How am I the irrational one here?" Dutch asked.

"Because you're not, for one second, considering how difficult this must be for Arthur!" Annabelle shouted. "You're only thinking about yourself and your next job!"

"I'm only thinking about myself?" Dutch said. "Am I not trying to support a camp of people, including Arthur's son? How are we supposed to keep everyone fed, make money, get jobs done without him? What happens when he leaves?"

"And what happens," Hosea said, grim and indignant, "when something goes wrong on a job? Because sooner or later, it does, Dutch. Hell, Arthur was shot by O'Driscolls on an easy stagecoach robbery!"

"You know that was simply an unfortunate occurrence, and-"

Annabelle cut off Dutch's reply. "Hosea's right, Dutch. This life is dangerous. I'd rather see Arthur once or twice a year than explain to that poor boy why his dad isn't coming home!"

Dutch scoffed. "I see I'm being outnumbered here." And he walked away.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Hosea said.

"You think he'll come around?" Bessie asked.

"Not for a while," said Annabelle, rolling her eyes.

Dutch called out to the Callander brothers, probably inviting them out to the saloon for a drink. "Let's worry about Dutch later," Hosea said. "Arthur is the one who needs us."

Of course, on the way back to Arthur, they passed John, sitting against a wagon wheel. He didn't acknowledge them when they passed, just staring straight ahead.

"Hey, son," Hosea said, letting the women go ahead and sitting next to John.

"Is Arthur really leaving?"

"We don't know yet. He hasn't decided."

"Oh."

Hosea sat down next to him and said, "Maybe you should go talk to Arthur about it."

"I don't know."

"You know, ranch life doesn't sound so bad some days."

John didn't respond.

"I ever tell you that I left the gang for a while?"

"What?" John turned to face him, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"Oh, yes. It as a long time ago, now. Maybe a year or two after Arthur joined us. I'd just gotten married to Bessie. And she knew who I was, accepted it, but I know it made her nervous every time Dutch and I would go after a stage or break into a homestead."

"Why'd you go?"

"I got hurt. Real bad, on a job one day." Hosea could still remember the moment right before it happened. They broke into a huge, supposedly empty mansion while the family was out of town. Unfortunately, their information was wrong. The family trip did not include the patriarch, Mr. Morrison, who wasn't afraid to confront intruders with his pistol.

Hosea didn't even have time to react, or even think. He just remembered the loud bang, the searing pain through his right thigh, Arthur screaming for Dutch. Mr. Morrison, despite his preparedness, had been a terrible shot and managed to miss the major arteries, but the wound still bled heavily. The long ride back was fuzzy, filled with Dutch's fearful whispers in his ear as the younger man held him in the saddle. He was pretty sure Dutch threatened a doctor at one point and Bessie had to kick him out of the tent, but despite the blood loss and risk of infection, he survived.

"Obviously, I didn't kick the bucket," Hosea laughed. He could laugh now, but not then. Not when he woke up with Bessie's red, puffy eyes meeting his own after days of sitting with him. He never wanted to see her like that again. "But it made me reconsider my priorities. Bessie and I tried to go straight. We traveled, went down to Ambarino, New Hanover, all the way to Lemoyne, though we didn't stay too long there."

"But you came back," said John.

"I did. I healed up, saw a lot of this country with Bessie, but I knew I couldn't settle down. I missed the life, I missed Dutch and Arthur. I was worried what Bessie would think, but we talked it out, agreed to give it another go. And I think it's worked out for the best. We got to meet you, after all."

John gave him a slight smile.

"You see John, sometimes you think your life is going in one direction, and it's all you can imagine. This life, living free, I never thought I would trade it for anything when I first met Dutch, and I'm guessing you feel the same. But there's nothing wrong with good, honest work, either. I take it you've never been on a ranch, John."

"Not one I wasn't robbing," he said.

"You ever think about working on one?"

"Hell, no!"

"Like I said, there's nothing wrong with it."

"What? You sending me away, too?" John asked, scrambling back.

"No, I know better than to force that upon you. I suppose I'm just trying to impart some wisdom. I know Dutch and I gave you and Arthur a home. You have people who care for you and look out for you, but sometimes I wonder if we've doomed you at the same time."

"Doomed me? Dutch saved my life!"

"That he did. But the more you work with us, the more likely you'll have a bounty on your head. No matter how good you are, well, this will end. One way or another. And I don't know too many old outlaws, do you? You and Arthur, even Dutch, you didn't have the best lives growing up, and you all lost family pretty young. I'm hoping Arthur can break that cycle with Isaac. And I want to remind you that you can break the cycle, too."

John shook his head. "Naw, I like this life. It's a lot better than what I had before."

"Fine. But please don't blame your brother for wanting different things."

"I'll try," John said.

"That's my boy," Hosea said with a wide smile, patting John on the shoulder.

Again, he headed for Arthur's tent, where he assumed Annabelle and Bessie were waiting, but then he noticed Annabelle whispering madly with Susan. Watching for a moment, Hosea wondered if he should interrupt, but then Susan stormed off. "What was that about?" he asked Annabelle.

"Susan doesn't like the idea of Arthur leaving."

"So the camp is split."

"Pretty much. She says he's being disloyal."

Hosea sighed and rubbed his temple, trying to figure out a plan. "Bessie doesn't leave until end of August. We have time to deal with the fallout. I might go with them, at least in the beginning."

"I understand," Annabelle said.

"I hate to leave you to deal with-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. This is for Arthur."

"Right," he said, pushing himself up and walking to the tent. "For Arthur and Isaac."


	8. Annabelle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... but you had to know something would happen, right?

“Are you just going to keep ignoring me?”

Dutch didn’t answer. He turned the page of his book.

“Really?”

Dutch let out a long sigh, and turned away.

“Well, two can play this game,” Annabelle said.

“You want to explain why you are encouraging Arthur to abandon us?” Dutch asked, sullen and annoyed.

“I didn’t. I encouraged you to let him make his own decisions,” she replied.

“Oh, really? You didn’t go straight to his tent after and tell him to run off to be rancher?”

“Not yet. I stopped to talk to Susan.”

“Not yet?”

“Dutch-”

“Fine, just tear the family apart, why don’t you!” Dutch shouted, and stormed away.

Apart from this outburst, silence had invaded Annabelle and Dutch’s tent both the previous night and that morning. Annabelle let out a sigh as Dutch disappeared behind the other tents. When she first met Dutch years ago in that hotel, she couldn’t help but be pulled into a conversation. Dutch’s opinions swirled brilliantly through their passionate debate, his ideas of the world were bold, he listened to her views, truly listened even if he ended up countering them. She had already started to fall in love with him that first night, and kept falling in love after. She loved him even when she noticed the gaping hole in his thinking that appeared again and again.

For a man who meticulously planned robberies and crafted visions of their utopia, he could be incredibly short-sighted when it came to other people. He viewed Hosea’s year-long departure as a mistake, and his eventual return as proof of his philosophies. Other than that, Annabelle usually could talk him back, remind him of the factors he was missing.

Usually.

This time, though, an impenetrable curtain fell between them. Annabelle was trying to be patient. She could barely imagine Arthur, one of the original members, the one who turned a partnership into a gang, packing up and leaving it behind for a ranch life. But Hosea had a point, one which Dutch was stubbornly ignoring. Their life wasn’t safe.

Annabelle loved living free with the gang. But freedom came with uncertainty. There was little guarantee of a payday or even survival. So many things could get them out here: disease, accidents, bounty hunters, rival outlaws.

With the restrictions of normal employment came steady money, regular access to medicine and food, and a stable home. She may not have liked her mother’s job, but she understood now why she kept it all those years.

She’d miss Arthur. There was no doubting that. If he didn’t write to her, she’d have to go all the way to Indiana to have words with him. She guessed she’d have more luck getting letters from Arthur than she would from John, if the positions were changed. Those two boys… she may not have been there from the beginning with Arthur but she considered both to be her sons.

Annabelle turned away from Dutch’s retreating form and walked up to Arthur, announcing loudly for the entire camp to hear, “Hey, want to head into town with me and do some shopping? I have a few things to grab, and I’m sure Isaac has grown out of last year’s winter clothes by now. It’s always a good idea to shop before summer is over. Autumn gets cold fast.”

“Sure,” Arthur said. “Let’s just try his coat on first, see how much he’s grown.”

“Why don’t you just bring him along? It’s certainly easier than guessing. I’ll get the wagon ready.”

Annabelle decided to hitch Rory up to their smallest wagon. Normally, they forced one of their riding horses to pull the wagon, especially when they were moving camp. Most of the horses hated it, especially Leo and Bo. They’d have to start training Moose to do it soon. But for today, it made sense to take their only real wagon horse.

“You ready?” she called out.

Arthur emerged with Isaac on his shoulders. “You excited to get out of camp?” he asked Isaac.

“Yeah! Mama took me to town all the time. She’d always buy me candy.”

“Just one candy this time. We’re not having a repeat of that other night.”

Annabelle chuckled, and gave Arthur a hand up. “What? You didn’t like chasing a hyper child around camp all night?”

“Not in the slightest. But you can stay awake with him, if you want.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Annabelle gathered the reins and flicked them to encourage Rory out of camp. He started out at a steady trot, easily pulling the wagon along. It was a shame that Arthur would likely take Rory with him. Then again, maybe not. Bessie always took the train, since it was faster and safer.

“How are you, Arthur?” she asked him. “I know you’ve had a lot to think about lately.”

“I’m fine, I guess,” Arthur said, scratching his chin. “I know what I should do, it’s just…”

“Hard? To leave?”

“You’re leaving?” Isaac asked.

“You and me, together,” Arthur quickly corrected. “A friend has a farm we can live at. Have a proper house, instead of a tent. What do you think about that?”

“Okay, I guess,” said Isaac. “But we wouldn’t be camping?”

“That’s right, no more camping.”

“But Uncle Hosea says camping is the best!”

“Well, I guess we can go camping sometimes, in the summer when it’s warm. But winter is cold, with lot’s of snow. Staying in a house is better.”

“I agree,” Annabelle said. “I used to live in a really cold city, the wind blew the snow up to the buildings until it was so deep you couldn’t get out your door. Trust me, you want to be in a house with a roaring fire then.”

“But snow is fun! Mama let me play in the snow sometimes and she’d come outside and build a snowman with me! But then when we were done she’d make me come inside and sit by the fire.”

“Probably so your fingers and toes don’t freeze,” Arthur said. “But we’ll buy you a nice, warm coat, some gloves, a hat too so you can play in the snow when it comes.”

“When is that gonna be?”

“A couple of months.”

“Aw.”

“What do you mean? It’s summer! Best season! It’s hot, you don’t need all the layers, you can go swimming. Wait, can you swim?”

“No.”

“I’ll teach you how to swim. Maybe this year we can convince John to learn, too.”

Annabelle let out a snort and said, “Like that will ever happen.”

They made their way across the creek and down the hill while Isaac talked on and on about how much he liked snow and being outdoors in general. When they got to town, Arthur tried to head to the general store, but Annabelle steered him to the tailor instead.

“Why are we going here? A tailor shop is more expensive, you know that!”

“Yes, but they can advise you on what to get and hem items for you with purchase. Bessie can certainly let the hems out as he grows. At a general store, you just buy whatever is in stock.”

“I guess,” Arthur said.

“Please tell me you’ve shopped at a tailor’s before,” she teased.

“Only when Hosea and Dutch dragged me on a fancy job.”

“Well, I’m going to introduce you to the joys of the tailor shop,” Annabelle said. “This guy is good, he helped me and Susan find those dresses.”

The party had been a wonderful distraction from her worries about Isaac, Arthur, the fact that Dutch killed that O’Driscoll. Mr. Thompson, the tailor, had helped her find a beautiful red dress and lovely shoes to match. She rarely got the opportunity to wear such nice things these days, usually picking comfort over glamor.

“Good morning, miss,” Mr. Thompson said. “Here for another dress?”

“Not today, but that last one was wonderful. No, I brought my friend and his son. Isaac here could use some new winter clothes.” She patted Isaac on the shoulder.

“Of course, now are you looking for more practical clothes or-”

“Practical,” Arthur jumped in. “Definitely practical. We’re staying on a friend’s ranch this winter.”

“I understand, sir. Now, why don’t you hop up on here, young man, and we’ll get you fitted with a coat.” The tailor brought out a small platform and placed it in front of the mirrors, and Isaac climbed on top. “Do you have a color preference?” he asked Arthur.

“Uh, I don’t know. Something darker, I guess, to hide dirt and stuff.”

“We have this children’s coat in dark brown, red, blue, and black.”

“Isaac, you want brown, red, blue, or black?”

“Blue!” Isaac said.

“The customer has spoken,” the tailor joked, and put the blue coat on Isaac. “Just hold still, I’m going roll up these sleeves for you and put some pins in.”

“Okay!” Isaac stayed very still.

Annabelle stood next to Arthur a few feet away and whispered in his ear, “You’ve decided then? About the ranch?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Arthur said.

“You do, though. Please don’t forget that.”

“But choosing to go is the better choice. At least for now, while he’s young.”

“That I agree with. I just didn’t want to pressure you,” Annabelle said. “And who knows? You might like it a whole lot! Having a small cabin, the same bed every night, a warm fire in the hearth… there’s times I miss it.”

“Let’s all go to Indiana then,” he teased. “Get a homestead together, or a small ranch of our own.”

“Could you imagine Dutch living on a ranch?”

“No!” he laughed.

“Cleaning up horse shit, milking cows, feeding the chickens…”

“He always manages to get himself out of the dirty work out here, and we live outdoors!” Arthur laughed. “Hey, when I’m gone, you should put him on horse shit duty.”

“Except Susan assigns the chores, and he has somehow convinced her that some tasks are beneath him.”

“Bribe her. Susan may respect Dutch’s authority, but she doesn’t mind making a few bucks on the side.”

“Why, Arthur, are you speaking from experience?”

“John has no idea why he always has to do the laundry.”

They both descending into giggles, earning a stare from the tailor.

Annabelle sighed. “It’s a lovely dream, having our own land out west. A place where we can do whatever we want, make our own money. Dutch has mentioned it before, but between you and me, I think he’s a bit too restless for that. Him and Hosea, they’ll be moving until the day they die.”

“Alright, how does this look?” Mr. Thompson said, stepping aside. Pins encircled Isaac’s wrists, and the shoulders were just a hair too wide. But that was by design, and the next size down would likely be too small. “I’ve kept the sleeves a little long, so I would suggest a nice, warm shirt and a good pair of mittens so the wind doesn’t get up his arms, but this way you shouldn’t need to immediately let the hems out. Who knows, depending on how fast he’s growing, it might be perfect by the time winter gets here!”

“Looks good,” Arthur said.

“Now, I can hem these cuffs right away. You are welcome to wait here, or come back later if you have other shopping to do.”

“We have other shopping, but we should get Isaac some new mittens, too.”

“That shouldn’t take too long. You pick them out when you get back.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur, and they guided Isaac out of the shop.

“Now, we can go to the general store,” Annabelle said, leading the way down the street.

“What do you need?”

“Some more food, Hosea wants some predator bait… I think he’s planning to take you boys bear hunting.”

“Oh, of course,” Arthur groaned. 

“He’s been talking about his youthful days of bear hunting since we set eyes on those mountains. And finally,” Annabelle said, plucking a box of pipe tobacco off the shelf. “Some bribery.”

“Think that’ll work on Dutch?”

“If not, I’ll just smoke it. This isn’t my favorite, but it’ll do. And I can always move into Susan’s tent for a few days. That might shock him into conversation. Then again, she’s disagrees about Indiana, too.”

“You and Dutch doing alright? You haven’t fought like that in a long time. Think the last time was when you suggested that John might be too young to stay with us, and we should find him a family to take care of him.”

“And at the time, it was a good idea. Just because John ended up flourishing with us doesn’t mean my opinion was bad.”

“Yeah, he was a little shit back then. Still is, sometimes. Besides, I doubt he would have stayed put. He told me some stuff, about the place they sent him to when his father died.”

“I remember he used to have nightmares,” she said.

“Yeah, not just about that. He had it rough, more than most. I feel sorry for him sometimes. And I have to admit, he’s starting to grow up a little.”

“Arthur Morgan, I think you are turning into a good brother,” Annabelle said. “And you are going to be a great father to Isaac, I can tell.”

“I ain’t so sure some days,” he said, playing with his hat.

“Nonsense.”

Arthur turned to Isaac and asked, “You think he’s distracted for a second?”

“Yes, why?”

Arthur walked over to a small stack of journals. “Hosea’s idea, for teaching him writing and drawing.”

“A surprise, I take it?”

“Yeah, for his birthday maybe. Or sooner.”

“You going to teach him how to draw like you do?”

“I’m not that good.”

“Yes, you are. Wait, here he comes.” Annabelle stepped in front of Arthur while the he slid the shop owner the money for the journal. “Isaac, see anything you want?”

“They have chocolate bars!” Isaac said, running over with multiple bars in his hand. “Can I have it, Pa?”

“One,” Arthur said, slipping the journal in his satchel. “And maybe your Aunt Anna will pay for it.”

“If I pay, you can have two,” she winked.

“Undermining my authority?” he said.

“You learn those words from Dutch?” she shot back.

“Fine. If Aunt Anna buys you two, then you can have them.” Annabelle paid for the rest of the items. Arthur offered, “I can load these in the wagon and meet you and Isaac back at the tailor shop.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Annabelle held Isaac’s hand as they walked down the street. She grabbed the shop’s door handle, then paused. She felt like she was being watched. Carefully, she scanned the reflections in the glass. There was someone sitting on a horse behind her, leaned casually on the pommel. After a second, the man turned the horse down the street, and Annabelle relaxed a little as she entered the shop.

“Alright, Isaac, let’s pick out some mittens!”

She didn’t tell Arthur about the man when he arrived. After all, it was probably nothing, just an asshole staring at women on the street. They bought Isaac two pairs of mittens and picked up the coat before deciding it was time to head back. Still, the feeling lingered in her gut.

“Can I eat the chocolate now?” Isaac asked not long after the wagon rolled out of town.

“Why not,” Arthur said. “Better to spoil your dinner than have you up all night.”

“Not a bad trade,” Annabelle laughed.

Arthur reached in the back to pull out the chocolate, since Isaac was on Annabelle’s lap. He paused while ruffling through the bags, then turned around slowly.

“I think we’re being followed,” he whispered.

She should have trusted her instincts. “How many?”

“Just two, but they seem like they’re watching us.”

“What should we do?”

Arthur stretched slightly, using the opportunity to peak over his shoulder again. “Dammit, I think there’s another one. Okay, keep it cool.”

Annabelle tightened her hold around Isaac. She and Arthur could easily fight off three men, but neither of them wanted to risk it with Isaac if they didn’t have to. She slipped her hand into her satchel, fingers tightening around her pistol.

“Hey, you two, wait up, why don’t yah?” one of the men called out, with a thick Irish accent.

“Keep it cool,” Arthur muttered again.

“Pa?” Isaac asked.

“It’s okay, Isaac. We’re fine.”

Another man rode out in front of them, the green neckerchief giving away who she suspected they were. O’Driscolls.

“Ah, look who it is. Dutch’s girl and Arthur Morgan! And a kid,” the man in front of them said. “And Colm only told us to look for the girl.”

“I’d let us by, if I were you,” Arthur growled.

“Can’t do that. You see, Colm’s pretty angry about his brother. Supposes one for one is pretty fair. That your kid?”

Annabelle hugged Isaac closer to her as more O’Driscolls emerged from the woods on either side. Annabelle glanced behind them, and knew there were too many to fight it out, Isaac or no Isaac.

Arthur leaned closer to her and whispered, “I’ll take out the one in front, clear the way. Run out of here as fast as you can, through the trees. I’ll cover you.”

The unspoken instruction was to leave him behind. “No,” she said.

The O’Driscoll addressed Arthur, saying, “Tell you what. You give us the girl, you and the kid can walk out of here just fine. Colm wants Dutch to know about this.”

Arthur tensed, shifting the reins to one hand. Ready to draw his gun.

“Arthur, it’s okay,” she said, louder so the O’Driscolls could hear. “Get Isaac home.”

She started to shift Isaac onto his lap, but in an instant Arthur drew his revolver and fired into the first O’Driscoll’s head. The dead man’s horse panicked and bolted off the path.

“Go!” he shouted, diving off the wagon and turning on the other men.

“Pa!” Isaac screamed back at him, but Annabelle slid off the other side of the wagon and sprinted into the trees. She hated being trapped on foot, but she understood Arthur’s intention. A wagon was easy to track and provided very little cover. Ducking her head down, she tightened her grip on Isaac, who twisted his head to hide in her arm. Gunshots erupted behind her, the O’Driscolls shouting.

“She’s getting away!”

“Forget her, get Morgan!”

The gunfire continued as she disappeared into the trees, and then abruptly stopped. Jeers and laughter replaced it.

She desperately wanted to turn back. But with Isaac in her arms, she kept running.


End file.
